HARVARD 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


riarvard   Vespers. 


Addresses  to  Harvard  Students 


Preachers  to  the  University. 


1886—1888. 


BOSTON: 
ROBERTS   BROTHERS. 

1888. 


Copyright,  1888, 
BY  ROBERTS  BROTHERS. 


frets  o/Geo.  //.  Ellis,  141  Franklin  Street. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


THE  addresses  in  this  volume  were  given 
by  the  Plummer  Professor  and  the 
Preachers  to  Harvard  University  at  the  Ves- 
per Services  which  have  been  held  during 
the  past  two  years.  They  are  reprinted  from 
phonographic  reports  which  appeared  weekly 
in  The  Christian  Register.  It  has  been  thought 
best  to  retain  the  direct  extemporaneous  form 
in  which  they  were  taken  down  by  the  stenog- 
rapher, instead  of  submitting  them  to  formal 
literary  revision.  An  address  of  Rev.  Dr. 
A.  P.  Peabody,  who  conducted  one  of  the 
services,  is  included. 

Given  as  these  brief  addresses  were  to 
young  men  in  the  course  of  their  student 
life,  their  application  is  restricted  to  no  single 
college.  In  the  hope  that  they  may  be  found 
helpful  to  young  men  everywhere  in  promot- 
ing the  religious  life,  the  Preachers  to  the 
University  have  kindly  consented  to  their 

publication. 

s.  j.  B. 

641526 


CONTENTS. 


1.  THE  Two  BAPTISMS. 

Dec.  16,  1886.  FRANCIS  G.  PEABODY,        9 

2.  CHRIST  AND  THE  BLIND  MAN. 

Jan.  13,  1887.  PHILLIPS  BROOKS,      19 

3.  THE  SOIL  AND  THE  SEED. 

Jan.  20,  1887.  FRANCIS  G.  PEABODY,      25 

4.  GOD  OUR  ROCK. 

Jan.  27,  1887.     EDWARD  EVERETT  HALE,      32 

5.  CHRIST  AND  NATHANAEL. 

Feb.  3,  1887.  PHILLIPS  BROOKS,      37 

6.  SEMBLANCE  OR  REALITY. 

Feb.  10,  1887.         ALEXANDER  MCKENZIE,      46 

7.  THE  SINCERITY  OF  GOD. 

Feb.  17,  1887.  GEORGE  A.  GORDON,      51 

8.  OPENING  THE  DOOR. 

Feb.  24,  1887.  FRANCIS  G.  PEABODY,      58 

9.  THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMONWEALTH. 

March  3,  1887.  EDWARD  EVERETT  HALE,      67 

10.  THE  TEMPTATION  OF  JESUS. 

March  10,  1887.  PHILLIPS  BROOKS,      72 


6  Contents 

n.  IRREMEDIABLE  Loss  IN  SIN. 

March  17,  1887.         GEORGE  A.  GORDON,      82 

12.  MY  FATHER'S  BUSINESS. 

March  24,  1887.    ALEXANDER  MCKENZIE,      89 

13.  JESUS  IN  EPHRAIM. 

March  31,  1887.        FRANCIS  G.  PEABODY,      99 

14.  NICODEMUS. 

Dec.  i,  1887.  FRANCIS  G.  PEABODY,    111 

15.  A  LIFE  OF  PURPOSE. 

Dec.  22,  1887.        ALEXANDER  MCKENZIE,     121 

16.  MAKING  ALL  THINGS  NEW. 

Jan.  5,  1888.  PHILLIPS  BROOKS,     130 

17.  MORAL  HEROISM. 

Jan.  12,  1888.  GEORGE  A.  GORDON,     137 

1 8.  THE  EYE  OF  GOD. 

Jan.  19,  1888.          ANDREW  P.  PEABODY,     146 

19.  GOD  is  A  SPIRIT. 

Jan.  26,  1888.        ALEXANDER  MCKENZIE,     153 

20.  THE  SIMPLICITY  WHICH  is  IN  CHRIST. 

Feb.  2,  1888.  FRANCIS  G.  PEABODY,     160 

21.  FISHERS  OF  MEN. 

Feb.  9,  1888.  PHILLIPS  BROOKS,     168 

22.  SEEK,  AND  YE  SHALL  FIND. 

Feb.  16,  1888.  GEORGE  A.  GORDON,    176 

23.  THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  POUNDS. 

Feb.  23,  1888.     EDWARD  EVERETT  HALE,     184 


Contents;*  7 

24.  COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

March  i,  1888.         FRANCIS  G.  PEABODY,     192 

25.  JUDGMENTS  OF  LIFE. 

March  8,  1888.  PHILLIPS  BROOKS,     203 

26.  REMEMBERING  GOD. 

March  15,  1888.         GEORGE  A.  GORDON,    212 

27.  ENLARGEMENT  OF  LIFE. 

March  22,  1888.  EDWARD  EVERETT  HALE,    218 

28.  THE  MASTER'S  GUEST-CHAMBER. 

March  29,  1888.    ALEXANDER  MCKF.NZIE,    226 


HARVARD  VESPERS. 


i. 

THE  TWO    BAPTISMS. 

IN  the  weeks  just  before  Christmas,  a 
large  part  of  the  Christian  Church 
remembers  especially  the  work  of  John 
the  Baptist.  He  makes  not  only  the  im- 
mediate preparation  for  the  advent  of 
Christ,  but  he  is  also,  with  the  exception 
of  Jesus  himself,  the  most  dramatic  and 
impressive  of  New  Testament  characters. 
Two  qualities  unite  in  him,  each  of  which 
is  rare,  but  both  of  which  together  are 
almost  never  seen.  The  one  was  his  self- 
confidence  :  the  other  was  his  self-subordi- 
nation. It  takes  a  bold  man  to  begin  a 
new  reform,  but  it  takes  a  much  bolder 
man  to  revive  an  old  and  discarded  move- 
ment ;  and  this  last  boldness  was  that 

of 


io 

of  John  the  Baptist.  For  three  hundred 
years  the  prophetic  voice  had  been  alto- 
gether silent,  and  now  with  an  amazing 
confidence  it  speaks  again.  It  is  the 
same  prophetic  message.  John  is  the 
lineal  descendant  of  Micah  and  Habak- 
kuk ;  but  the  beginners  of  prophecy 
never  spoke  so  unsparingly  and  absolutely 
as  did  this  new  voice  among  them.  Such 
was  his  self-confidence.  But  with  it  came 
a  wonderful  self-subordination.  A  re- 
former is  often  brave,  but  he  is  seldom 
humble.  A  prophet  seldom  announces 
that  his  message  is  incomplete.  Yet 
here  is  John,  summoning  his  nation  to 
repentance  as  a  master  speaks  to  his 
servants,  but  at  the  same  time  foretelling 
one  among  them  who  is  greater  than  he. 
He  is  but  a  voice  crying,  "  Prepare  ye 
the  way  of  the  Lord."  All  Jerusalem 
and  Judea  flock  to  him  at  the  Jordan, 
and  there  he  tells  them  of  one  unnoticed 
young  man  in  their  midst  whose  shoes' 
latchet  he  is  not  worthy  to  unloose.  It 
is  a  wonderful  union  of  conflicting  attri- 
butes, and  there  is  a  legend  that  the 
Christian  Church  commemorates  it  in 
its  very  date  of  Christmas.  For  many 

years, 


13aptisms'.  11 

years,  as  we  know,  it  was  the  death  and 
the  resurrection  of  Jesus  which  held  at- 
tention ;  and  the  time  of  his  birth  was 
unobserved.  Finally,  the  tradition  says, 
the  winter  solstice  was  the  time  assigned, 
when  the  days  grow  longer  and  the  nights 
grow  less,  that  thus  in  the  coming  of  the 
Sun  of  righteousness  there  might  be  ful- 
filled the  word  of  the  brave  and  humble 
John :  "  He  must  increase,  but  I  must 
decrease." 

This  reference  of  the  whole  work  of 
the  Baptist  to  the  higher  work  which  was 
to  follow  it  is  summed  up  in  one  striking 
contrast, —  the  contrast  which  John  him- 
self presents,  of  the  two  baptisms.  "I 
baptize  with  water,"  says  John,  "but  he 
that  cometh  after  me  is  mightier  than  I : 
he  shall  baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost 
and  with  fire."  Here  is  the  transition 
from  the  forerunner  to  the  fulfiller,  from 
John  to  Jesus.  The  baptism  by  water  is 
obviously  the  symbol  of  John's  preaching 
of  repentance.  It  is  the  washing  of  life 
clean  of  its  stains.  A  man  heard  the 
word  of  John,  "  Repent,  repent,"  and,  de- 
siring repentance,  bathed  in  the  Jordan. 
Washing  the  body  meant  washing  the 

heart 


12 

heart  clean  of  its  stains.  But  what  is 
this  second  baptism,  which  the  Master 
would  require, —  the  baptism  by  fire?  It 
means  not  only  the  cleansing  as  of  out- 
ward water  but  the  cleansing  as  of  an 
inward  flame.  It  is  a  fire  lighted  in  the 
heart,  which  shall  not  only  burn  up  the 
old  life,  but  shall  kindle  the  new.  It 
means  not  only  washing,  but  inflaming 
and  inspiring ;  not  only  purity,  but  pas- 
sion ;  not  only  freedom  from  the  power 
of  evil,  but  baptism  with  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Such  is  the  step  in  which, 
John  says,  one  passes  from  his  disciple- 
ship  to  that  of  Christ.  When  a  man  has 
brought  his  life  to  repentance  for  that 
which  has  stained  it,  when  he  is  ready  to 
have  it  washed  of  its  misdeeds,  then  he 
is  indeed  taking  the  first  step  toward  the 
discipleship  of  Christ.  He  is  standing  by 
the  Jordan  bank,  ready  for  the  baptism  of 
John.  It  is  a  great,  a  momentous,  a  cru- 
cial step.  I  suppose  there  were  few  who 
were  brave  enough  to  accept  the  ministry 
of  the  Baptist  who  were  not  thereby  made 
ready  for  a  hearing  of  the  Messiah  him- 
self when  he  came.  Yet,  none  the  less, 
it  is  but  a  preparing  of  the  way  of  the 

Lord. 


Ctoo  llBaptttfms;.  13 

Lord.  The  baptism  which  is  of  Christ  is 
by  fire.  It  is  when  a  man  commits  him- 
self, under  the  power  of  Christ,  to  a  new 
passion;  when  there  is  kindled  within 
him  a  flame  of  loyalty ;  when  he  is  led 
out  of  his  own  repentances  and  regrets 
into  the  enthusiastic  service  of  a  new  and 
a  worthy  aim.  To  be  changed  from  con- 
fession to  devotion,  from  self-conquests  to 
self-consecration,  from  purity  to  passion, 
from  the  resolution  not  to  do  wrong  to 
the  loyalty  to  what  is  holy,  from  the 
struggle  against  error  to  the  zeal  for  truth, 
—  this  is  the  baptism  by  fire. 

Set  these  two  baptisms  now  for  a  mo- 
ment in  contrast  with  each  other  as  they 
affect  our  modern  life.  We  see  some- 
thing of  them  in  our  intellectual  affairs. 
It  is  a  great  thing  when  the  mind  is  bap- 
tized by  water,  cleansed  from  error  and 
tradition  and  myth,  and  set  freely  and 
calmly  before  the  truth.  It  is  what  hap 
pens  to  many  a  man  in  his  academic  life. 
Much  that  once  seemed  true  shows  its 
inadequacy.  Mistakes  are  outgrown,  sys- 
tems lose  their  hold,  and  the  mind  is  no 
longer  ensnared  or  enslaved.  It  is  a  pre- 
paring of  the  way  for  the  regeneration 

of 


14  S?arbar& 

of  the  mind.  But  let  a.  man  suppose  that 
in  such  a  baptism  his  regeneration  is  com- 
plete, and  he  has  received  the  worst  harm 
which  an  education  can  do.  He  has  been 
cleansed  from  error,  but  he  has  found  no 
truth.  He  criticises,  but  he  does  not  cre- 
ate. He  can  despise  conviction,  but  he 
cannot  do  work  which  demands  convic- 
tion. He  has  been  baptized  by  water, 
but  the  baptism  by  fire  has  not  touched 
his  mind.  Then,  sometimes,  into  such  a 
mind  there  comes  by  some  blessed  influ- 
ence a  passion  for  some  way  of  truth, 
a  desire  toward  some  definite  encl ;  and 
with  that  kindling  of  eagerness  the  mind 
is  born  again.  The  end  illuminates  the 
task.  The  purpose  interprets  the  mate- 
rial. When  a  man  is  thus  intellectually 
devoted,  each  new  book  seems  written 
for  his  sake  and  makes  its  unintended 
contribution.  He  is  no  longer  the  dilet- 
tante or  the  cynic.  He  is  the  disciple 
of  the  truth.  He  has  been  baptized,  not 
alone  with  water,  but  with  fire. 

Or  look  at  the  two  baptisms  in  our 
social  life.  We  try  to  cleanse  society  by 
our  legislation  and  our  reforms,  and  we 
do  well.  But  in  all  such  removal  of  evils 

we 


2Dtoo  HBapttemsu  15 

we  are  accomplishing  not  a  completed,  but 
a  preparatory  work.  What  saves  a  com- 
munity is  not  deliverance  from  evil,  but 
a  newly  kindled  desire  for  good.  In  our 
own  community,  for  instance,  it  happens 
that  we  have  just  voted  that  we  would 
have  no  traffic  in  intoxicating  drink.  To 
many  of  us  it  seems  a  good  work  well 
done.  To  many  it  seems  like  a  genuine 
baptism  of  the  town  by  water.  But  such 
an  enterprise  only  brings  with  it  a  new 
danger,  if  duty  is  supposed  to  cease  with 
one's  vote.  Such  legislation  is  but  a 
preparing  of  the  way  of  the  Lord.  It 
must  be  succeeded  by  new  and  more 
positive  work,  by  the  provision  of  better 
places  of  resort,  by  a  new  spirit  of  self- 
sacrifice  and  service,  or  else  the  law  it- 
self is  sure  to  fail.  After  the  baptism 
by  water  must  come  the  baptism  by  fire. 
The  disciple  of  John  the  Baptist  may  cast 
his  vote,  but  the  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ 
must  apply  himself  to  the  building  of  a 
Christian  city. 

Yet  these  are  but  suggestions  of  the 
more  serious  meaning  which  the  contrast 
of  the  two  baptisms  was  intended  to  con- 
vey. What  John  and  Jesus  were  thinking 

of 


1 6 

of  was  the  salvation  of  men's  souls  from 
sin.  Each  step  in  t/lis  solemn  process 
is,  they  say,  essential.  There  is  but  one 
way  in  which  a  man's  soul  can  begin  to 
be  saved.  It  is  the  way  of  repentance. 
John  the  Baptist  summons  him  to  put 
away  the  things  that  separate  him  from 
God.  But,  when  a  man  has  thus  accepted 
the  baptism  by  water,  he  is  not  yet  safe. 
He  is  like  one  who  has  climbed  a  preci- 
pice, and  lies  down  to  sleep  upon  its  brink. 
His  life  has  been  left  clean  by  the  ebbing 
tide  of  his  temptation  ;  but,  if  he  does  not 
forthwith  bar  out  the  waters,  back  they 
will  come  upon  him  as  surely  as  the  flood- 
tide  of  the  sea.  A  man  cannot  live  safely 
in  this  negative  purity.  His  safety  lies  in 
the  supplanting  of  the  old  passions  by 
new  and  better  ones,  by  the  discovery  of 
new  interests  which  leave  no  room  for 
the  old.  That  is  what  the  Christian  life 
really  means.  It  not  only  summons  a 
man  to  repentance,  but  it  supplies  him 
with  a  new  passion.  A  man  catches  sight 
of  the  personality  of  Jesus  Christ  beckon- 
ing to  him  from  the  heights  of  character 
and  summoning  him  to  his  service,  and 
a  great  new  sense  of  personal  loyalty  and 

a 


2Ctoo  HBapttems*  17 

a  flame  of  personal  trust  are  kindled  in 
the  disciple's  heart.  He  has  passed  from 
the  ministry  of  the  Baptist  to  the  ministry 
of  the  Saviour.  It  is  not  only  the  water 
that  has  washed  him  :  it  is  fire  that  has 
touched  his  brow. 

Would  God  that  this  great  transition, 
in  which  alone  is  safety,  might  happen 
to  some  of  the  souls  who  gather  here ! 
Would  God  that  in  the  common  life  we 
lead  together  this  twofold  baptism  might 
occur !  It  would,  indeed,  be  a  great  thing 
for  our  University  if  we  could  feel  the  bap- 
tism of  John, —  if  there  might  be  among 
us  a  cleansing  from  vice,  a  purifying  of 
conduct,  a  conquest  of  our  follies,  our 
conceits,  and  our  sins.  But  by  no  such 
controversy  with  evil  is  our  common  life 
wholly  secure.  What  we  must  pray  for 
much  more  deeply  is  not  the  cleansing, 
but  the  kindling  power.  What  we  need 
is  a  great  tide  of  high  and  broad  spiritual 
interests,  an  enlarging  power  of  generous 
loyalty,  the  sense  that  we  are  set  here 
together  for  a  common  service  and  a  com- 
mon end,  and  the  responsibility,  the  self- 
respect,  and  the  seriousness  which  start 
up  thus  within  us  like  a  flame.  What 

must 


1 8  J?arbarD 

must  save  us  is  a  new  power  of  enthusi- 
asm, a  new  degree  of  moral  passion,  the 
fire  that  is  kindled  in  life  when  Christ 
touches  the  soul.  In  such  a  step,  the  life 
of  an  individual  or  a  community  is  ful- 
filled. It  has  passed  from  the  ministry 
of  John  to  the  discipleship  of  Jesus,  from 
the  baptism  of  water  to  the  baptism  of 
fire.  It  has  kept  its  Advent  season,  and 
it  is  ready  for  the  spirit  of  the  coming 
Christmas  Day. 


II. 


CHRIST   AND   THE   BLIND    MAN. 
JOHN  ix.  14-38. 

WE  find  in  this  chapter  of  John  two 
figures  standing  facing  each  other. 
One  of  them  is  the  familiar  figure  of  Jesus : 
the  other  is  the  strange  figure  of  the  poor 
man,  perplexed  and  bewildered  with  the 
very  manifestation  of  the  wonderful  mercy 
that  has  come  to  him,  perplexed  about  the 
way  in  which  he  has  received  that  mercy 
and  the  way  in  which  it  has  been  recog- 
nized by  those  about  him.  There  is  hardly 
a  picture  more  pathetic  than  that  of  this 
poor  man  to  whom  Christ  has  given  his 
sight,  and  who  finds  himself  subjected  to 
pains  and  perplexities  and  distresses  that 
he  had  never  known  before.  Having  sat 
a  beggar  all  these  years  by  the  side  of 
the  road,  men  had  tolerated  him ;  but, 
the  moment  he  was  cured,  they  began  to 
speak  hard  things  of  him,  and  to  be  parti- 
sans 


20 

sans  over  him.  Perplexed  and  confused, 
and  turning  from  those  who  said  these 
hard  things,  and  at  the  same  time  being 
drawn  toward  Jesus,  not  knowing  what  to 
do,  he  stood  there  in  the  bewilderment 
of  his  new  life.  Then  Christ  comes  and 
stands  in  front  of  him. 

Infinitely  interesting  must  be  the  first 
words  that  Christ  says  to  such  a  bewil- 
dered life:  "Dost  thou  believe  on  the  Son 
of  God  ?  "  A  personal  question.  Can  we 
probe  the  whole  meaning  of  the  startling 
words  that  had  come  to  this  man  in  this 
question  of  the  recognition  of  a  personal 
deliverer  who  is  hereafter  to  be  his  Master, 
his  Lord  ?  Everything  else  that  Christ 
might  have  said  to  the  man,  all  the  ques- 
tions that  had  been  raised  by  the  Phari- 
sees, were  left  unsaid  for  the  present ;  and 
there  was  only  one  question  on  the  heart 
of  Christ, —  whether  there  had  come  to 
the  heart  of  that  man  the  personal  leader- 
ship through  which  his  life  henceforth  was 
to  be  strong. 

There  can  be  no  real  salvation  to  any 
man  until  it  comes  in  a  personal  leader- 
ship, in  a  Master,  by  obeying  whom  the 
man's  life  is  redeemed  and  saved.  Truth 

comes 


Cfptet  au&  tlje  BlinD  span*      21 

comes  then  in  the  acceptance  of  the  nat- 
ure of  one  whom  the  truth  fills,  and  in 
whom  it  is  lodged.  Law  comes  then  in 
the  personal  will  of  one  who  is  a  worthy 
master,  in  whom  we  fulfil  our  own  duty. 
Hope  comes  then  as  it  shines  out  of  the 
face  of  one  who  comprehends  the  future 
in  his  deep  knowledge  of  the  present,  and 
opens  that  future  to  us  which  is  so  real 
to  himself.  Do  you  believe  ?  is  the  ques- 
tion to  the  human  soul.  Do  you  accept 
in  your  own  soul  the  certainty  of  God's 
revelation  of  himself  in  human  life,  that 
henceforth  you  can  walk  with  your  eye 
upon  that  revelation  of  God  and  fulfil  it 
in  yourself  as  it  is  set  before  you  in  his 
Son,  who  is  manifested  to  be  the  Leader 
and  the  Master  of  the  world  ?  With  such 
a  Master,  what  is  there  that  shall  make 
our  hearts  afraid  ?  What  darkness  is  there 
in  which  we  cannot  walk,  with  him  to  lead 
us  ?  What  sorrow  and  trouble  that  we 
cannot  face  ?  What  perplexity  which  he 
may  not  clear  up,  so  that  we  shall  find  a 
road  in  which  we  can  walk,  when  lighted 
by  Jesus  Christ  ?  He  is  a  Saviour  and  a 
Friend,  when  he  saves  us  by  making  us 
go  into  the  path  in  which  he  goes. 

Into 


22  U?atbarD 

Into  the  heart  of  this  man  there  had 
grown  something  of  this  kind.  I  think 
there  can  be  no  deeper  sign  of  eagerness 
and  earnestness  than  there  is  in  the  words 
in  which  he  answered  this  question  of  the 
Master:  "Who  is  he,  Lord,  that  I  might 
believe  on  him  ? "  The  words  of  Jesus 
become,  first,  interpretations  of  our  own 
consciences  ;  and  then  they  become  a  law 
for  our  lives.  There  came  first  the  con- 
sciousness that  it  was  a  personal  master 
that  he  needed.  If  that  may  come,  then 
everything  is  clear.  Then  the  Pharisee 
may  question  and  jeer;  for  there  is  his 
master,  who  is  to  be  the  revelation  of  the 
Infinite  Love. 

Then  out  from  behind  the  gift  there 
comes  the  giver,  out  from  behind  the 
mercy  there  comes  the  merciful  one ;  and 
Jesus,  whom  he  had  thought  of  as  only 
the  agent  who  had  given  him  the  light, 
says,  "I  who  speak  unto  you  am  he." 
The  true  revelation  of  life  comes  to  us 
when  out  from  behind  all  the  good  things 
which  we  enjoy  there  comes  the  divine 
presence  of  Him  who  has  given  them  to 
us;  when  out  from  behind  our  perplex- 
ities there  comes  the  true  solution ;  when 

the 


Ctjrtet  anO  tlje  Blind  span*      23 

the  past  becomes  significant  of  the  future, 
and  every  mercy  we  receive  becomes  a 
revelation  of  Him  who  has  the  future  in 
his  hands,  and  who  has  us  through  all 
eternity  in  his  own  soul,  and  whose  love  is 
waiting  for  those  who  are  ready  to  receive 
it.  Let  us  be  content  with  no  mercy, 
unless  it  reveals  the  merciful  one;  with 
nothing  godlike,  unless  God  is  manifested 
through  it.  When  that  has  come,  then 
the  Lord  is  around  us ;  and  there  is  noth- 
ing which  may  perplex  us  as  we  go  forth 
in  our  lives. 

Then  Jesus,  turning  with  that  wistful 
look  which  we  see  again  and  again  on  his 
face,  ponders  on  his  own  mission  in  the 
world  :  "  For  judgment  I  am  come  into  this 
world,  that  they  which  see  not  might  see, 
and  that  they  which  see  might  be  made 
blind," — the  need  of  humility  to  accept 
the  Master  as  he  reveals  himself  to  our 
needs,  the  need  of  such  humility  because 
our  lives  are  to  be  fulfilled  in  the  Infinite. 
True  humility  is  the  great  power  which 
takes  possession  of  the  infinite  future  and 
of  the  unmeasured  powers  of  our  human 
life.  It  is  pride,  and  not  humility,  when 
a  man  says,  "I  can  do  little,  for  I  am  a 

man." 


24 

man."  It  is  humility  when  a.  man  says, 
"I  can  do  everything  that  is  in  the  divine 
idea  of  man,  because  God  has  made  man 
his  own  child,  and  is  more  and  more  fill- 
ing him  with  his  own  fulness." 

And  so  this  man  goes  forward,  follow- 
ing the  Master,  leaving  behind  him  all 
petty  quibbles  about  healing  on  the  Sab- 
bath day,  and  the  words  of  his  parents, — 
"He  is  of  age,  can  speak  for  himself," — 
and  going  forward  into  what  life  we  can- 
not begin  to  guess,  and  here,  as  there  in 
the  eternal  world,  fulfilling  it  by  the  power 
of  Jesus  Christ,  which  has  taken  pos- 
session of  him  in  his  consecration  to 
the  Master.  To  such  consecration  may 
we  look  forward  together, —  forward  into 
whatever  life  God  has  for  us  here,  into 
whatever  richer  life  awaits  us  when  the 
gates  are  opened  and  we  have  passed  into 
eternal  life. 


III. 

THE   SOIL   AND   THE   SEED. 
MATT.  xiii.  1-23. 

I  TURN  from  most  of  the  types  of  life 
with  which  this  wonderful  Parable  of 
the  Sower  deals,  and  ask  you  to  think,  for 
a  moment,  of  but  one.  I  pass  by  the 
seeds  sown  by  the  wayside.  These  way- 
side lives  are  those  which  are  hard  like 
a  road,  trodden  down  by  business  or  fri- 
volity, so  that  there  is  no  chance  for  relig- 
ion. Sometimes,  no  doubt,  we  know  what 
this  impenetrability  is ;  but  it  is  certainly 
not  in  a  hard  and  unreceptive  mood  that 
we  are  here  to-day.  I  pass  by  the  seed 
sown  among  thorns.  These  are  the  lives 
which  are  so  overgrown  and  choked  by 
other  things  that  there  is  no  room  for 
religion.  Sometimes,  we  know  of  this 
stifling  of  the  soul ;  but  it  is  certainly 
not  because  we  are  wholly  without  room 
for  religion  that  we  are  here. 

But 


26  J?arbart) 

But  when  one  has  passed  out  of  this 
spiritual  hardness  and  out  of  these  stifling 
thorns,  when  one  has  reached  any  clear- 
ness of  religious  desire,  then  comes  an- 
other peril.  It  is  the  peril  of  instability, 
the  absence  of  permanence,  the  lack  of 
fixity  in  the  religious  life.  It  is  not  that 
we  are  unreceptive,  it  is  not  that  we  are 
choked ;  but  it  is  that  when  God  the 
Sower  scatters  His  seed  over  our  hearts 
it  does  not  find  stable  and  permanent  root, 
so  as  to  grow  and  stand  and  withstand  in 
its  own  strength  of  continuous  conviction. 
These  are  they  which  receive  the  word 
among  stony  places.  "The  same  is  he 
that  heareth  the  word,  and  anon  with  joy 
receiveth  it.  Yet  hath  he  not  root  in 
himself;  and,  having  no  depth  of  earth, 
when  the  sun  is  up,  he  withers  away." 

Now,  what  is  it  that  brings  about  this 
absence  of  fixity  and  permanence  in  the 
spiritual  life  ?  The  parable  names  two 
things.  One  is  lack  of  earth,  the  other 
is  lack  of  root.  Sometimes  there  is  no 
depth  of  soil.  A  life  is  soft  on  the  sur- 
face, but  hard  just  below.  It  is  quick 
with  emotion,  but  shallow  in  sentiment. 
It  finds  in  religion  an  excitement,  a  recre- 
ation ; 


il  ana  tije  £>ee&,         27 

ation ;  but  its  religion,  like  the  rest  of  its 
resources,  is  a  thin,  superficial,  and  im- 
penetrating thing.  There  is  no  harder 
class  to  reach  with  any  good  than  this, 
for  there  is  nothing  in  which  any  seed 
can  fasten  itself.  There  is  no  depth  of 
earth. 

Then  there  are  other  lives  which  have 
no  fixity,  because  they  have  no  root  in 
themselves ;  and  the  reason  they  have  no 
root  in  themselves  is  that  they  are  trying 
to  have  a  root  which  is  not  in  themselves. 
They  are  like  those  plants  which  we  call 
parasites.  The  moment  they  begin  to 
grow,  they  run  along  the  ground  to  the 
nearest  tree,  and  throw  their  tendrils 
round  it  and  draw  their  life  from  it.  Such 
parasitism  is  always  a  peril  of  academic 
life.  A  few  self-confident  men  stand  here 
over  against  a  multitude  of  self-distrustful 
men ;  and  the  life  of  the  many  tends  to 
run  for  its  opinions,  its  precedents,  its 
beliefs  and  unbeliefs,  to  the  life  of  the 
few.  A  glimpse  of  truth  shines  down 
upon  a  young  man  ;  and,  instead  of  letting 
it  warm  and  deepen  his  own  life,  he  runs 
to  see  what  the  books  and  the  masters 
have  to  say.  A  suggestion  of  duty  opens 

before 


28 

before  a  young  man's  soul ;  and  he  turns 
to  examine  the  traditions,  the  customs, 
and  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  the  place. 
It  is,  thus,  at  once  the  great  blessing  and 
the  great  peril  of  such  lives  as  we  lead 
here  that  we  are  brought  into  contact 
with  leaders.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  find 
a  master,  to  discover  one's  humble  place 
in  the  procession  of  learners,  to  have  the 
corrective  influence  of  the  history  of  dis- 
ciplined minds.  But  all  this  is  for  evil,  if 
it  mislead  a  life  out  of  its  healthy  method 
of  growth,  and  make  it  draw  its  life  from 
other  roots  than  those  which  are  its  own. 
The  learning  of  the  past  and  the  author- 
ity of  the  present  fulfil  their  work  only  as 
they  teach  each  mind  to  grow  in  its  own 
way.  The  method  of  God  with  each  soul 
is  a  new  method.  It  cannot  be  borrowed 
from  another  mind.  It  is  a  revelation  to 
the  individual.  A  fixed  and  stable  growth 
in  personal  conviction  is  not  the  life  of  a 
parasite :  it  is  the  growth  from  a  root 
which  is  in  one's  self. 

Finally,  how  is  this  fixity  obtained  ?  It 
demands,  answers  the  parable,  two  fac- 
tors,—  the  soil  and  the  seed.  The  one 
is  man's  contribution  :  the  other  is  God's. 

Many 


tl  ano  tlje  £>eefc*         29 

Many  people  think  that  one  element  is 
enough, —  a  cultivated  soil.  Let  a  man 
cultivate  himself,  and  he  will  be  strong. 
It  is  not  necessarily  so.  Sometimes,  self- 
culture  contributes  to  fixity  of  life.  Some- 
times, it  seems  to  have  less  permanent 
hold  on  the  things  which  remain  than 
ignorance  possesses.  The  fact  is  that 
culture  does  for  a  man  what  it  does  for 
a  field.  It  prepares  and  deepens  the  soil 
for  the  coming  of  the  sower.  A  man  who 
leaves  his  ploughed  ground  unsown  has 
not  fulfilled  his  work.  He  has  depth  of 
earth,  but  no  crop.  But  let  God  the  Sower 
come,  moving  across  men's  lives  as  Jesus 
saw  the  man  striding  through  the  furrows 
of  Galilee,  and  then  the  soil  that  has  been 
loosened  and  deepened  by  the  processes 
of  culture  is  the  soil  that  gladdens  the 
Sower's  heart.  Thus  it  is  that  culture 
and  religion,  the  intellectual  and  the  re- 
ligious life,  man's  work  and  God's,  meet. 
Soil  and  seed,  each  has  its  part.  Often, 
the  seed  grows  in  uncultured  places ;  but 
it  grows  best  and  deepest  in  the  prepared 
mind.  Let  a  man  neglect  the  culture  of 
his  mind,  and  he  is  neglecting  the  prepa- 
ration for  receiving  his  God.  Let  a  man 

think 


30 

think  that  his  self-culture  is  his  crop,  and 
his  life  is  but  a  ploughed  field  without  a 
harvest.  The  large  results  of  life  appear 
when  the  two  elements  meet, —  when  the 
life  of  man  has  made  itself  ready  for  the 
life  of  God,  and  the  descending  life  of 
God  finds  depths  of  earth  within  the  life 
of  man. 

Would  God  that  it  might  be  so  with 
some  of  us  to-day !  The  processes  of  self- 
culture  occupy  us  much.  They  have  oc- 
cupied the  hours  of  this  day.  What  have 
we  done  ?  We  have  been  preparing  the 
soil  of  life.  We  have  been  digging  out 
its  stones  of  error,  and  deepening  its 
powers  of  receptivity.  We  ought  to  have 
gained,  to-day,  some  increased  depth  of 
earth.  And  now  for  what  do  we  wait  ? 
We  wait  for  God  the  Sower  to  scatter 
over  us  in  these  quieter  moments  of  re- 
flection and  communion  His  seeds  of  in- 
fluence, the  infinitely  minute  thoughts, 
hopes,  memories,  ambitions,  and  ideals  in 
which  He  utters  himself,  and  which  have 
such  marvellous  power  of  growth.  Let 
the  Sower  come.  Let  our  hearts  lay  them- 
selves bare  for  His  visitation.  Let  Him 
turn  us  from  our  unstable,  unfixed,  and 

parasitic 


tl  anti  tljc  £>ee&*         31 

parasitic  living,  that  we  may  receive  into 
prepared  lives  these  germs  of  a  stable 
growth,  so  that  there  may  come  to  pass 
in  us  that  growth  which  is  like  the  normal 
growth  of  nature, —  quiet  and  slow,  pa- 
tient and  unassuming,  out  of  a  depth  of 
prepared  soil,  out  of  a  root  which  is  in 
itself,  and,  finally,  with  the  fruit  after  our 
varied  capacity,  some  thirty,  some  sixty, 
and  some,  in  God's  own  time,  a  hundred 
fold. 


T 


IV. 

GOD   OUR   ROCK. 
PSALM  xviii.  31. 

HIS  figure  of  God  as  a  rock  runs 
all  the  way  through  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. It  is  a  favorite  figure,  not  only 
with  David,  but  with  all  these  writers  from 
the  earliest  to  the  latest  of  the  prophets. 
The  foundation  of  a  man's  life,  that  which 
he  is  to  build  on,  is  the  Lord  Almighty. 
Man's  sense  of  God,  of  his  connection 
with  God,  is  to  be  the  foundation  of  his 
life,  is  to  be  his  rock.  The  figure  is  often 
an  inconvenient  one,  as  when  the  rock  is 
made  to  travel  from  place  to  place.  It 
is  not  always  poetic ;  but  it  is  so  certain 
that  life  must  have  a  foundation,  that 
these  writers  return  to  this  figure  again 
and  again,  often  when  it  seems  awkward. 
The  ancient  mythology  had  the  world 
standing  upon  an  elephant,  and  the  ele- 
phant standing  on  a  tortoise ;  but  what 

does 


our  Hock*  33 

does  the  tortoise  stand  on  ?  There  must 
be  a  foundation.  All  life  must  have  a 
foundation.  With  these  Hebrew  poets, 
the  statement  is  absolute  that  a  man's 
life  is  founded  upon  the  Living  God,  upon 
his  sense  of  the  being  of  this  God,  "  I 
Am,"  the  Existent.  This  consciousness 
that  one  rests  upon  the  original  "exist- 
ence" is  the  foundation  of  life. 

In  the  New  Testament,  the  Saviour 
takes  it  up,  and  urges  it  intensely  and 
earnestly,  and  wishes  us  to  live  by  this 
sense  of  God.  At  the  end  of  the  "Sermon 
on  the  Mount "  is  the  man  who  builds  his 
house  upon  a  rock, —  that  man  is  sure  ; 
and  also  the  man  who  builds  upon  the 
sand, —  that  man  is  not  sure.  When 
Peter  makes  the  great  central  statement 
to  Jesus,  "  Thou  art  not  a  messenger, 
thou  art  the  Son  of  God,"  Jesus  says  to 
him,  "  Yes,  and  this  is  the  foundation  that 
I  build  upon."  Man  is  the  Son  of  God; 
that  is  the  foundation. 

My  friends,  we  all  of  us  come  back  to 
the  same  necessity  :  there  must  be  a  foun- 
dation. Why  do  I  do  this  ?  Why  do  I 
study  to-day  ?  Why  did  I  play  yesterday  ? 
Why  am  I  going  to  New  York?  We 

work 


34 

work  back  and  back  through  a  series  of 
reasons :  there  must  be  something  behind 
it  all.  We  must  come  to  some  founda- 
tion on  which  our  life  rests.  If  the  Bible 
is  authority,  if  Jesus  Christ  is  authority, 
this  foundation  for  the  life  of  every  man 
and  woman  is  the  sense  of  God ;  and, 
more  than  this,  the  sense  that  we  are  the 
children  of  this  God,  that  we  partake  of 
his  nature.  We  come  back  to  the  feeling 
that  we  are  his  divine  children.  We  are 
not  the  manufacture  of  his  hands.  We 
are  not  the  mere  creatures  of  his  wisdom. 
We  are  the  children  born  of  his  nature, 
and  share  that  nature.  Is  God  a  creator  ? 
So  are  we.  Is  God  immortal?  So  are 
we.  Can  God  love  with  infinite  love  ? 
So  can  we.  We  share  the  being  of  God, 
we  live  in  his  life.  He  is  our  Rock  and 
our  Foundation. 

We  cannot  enter  upon  a  religious  life 
without  some  sense  or  thought  of  this  rela- 
tionship to  him.  That  is  what  the  Script- 
ures speak  of  as  faith.  In  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, the  word  translated  "faith"  always 
bears  an  etymological  reference  to  a  rock 
foundation  on  which  a  man  builds.  He 
builds  on  a  rock ;  that  is,  he  is  certain  that 

he 


our  Kocfe*  35 

he  is  founded  on  God,  that  he  lives  be- 
cause God  lives.  "  I  Am  "  is  the  name  of 
God.  "I  Am"  is  the  name  of  God's  chil- 
dren. Man  inherits  his  being  from  God, 
from  whom  he  is  born.  If  we  take  the 
Bible  as  authority,  if  we  take  Jesus  Christ 
as  authority,  here  is  to  be  the  foundation 
upon  which  we  are  to  live, —  the  Infinite 
Being  whom  we  cannot  help  seeing  and 
knowing. 

I  look  out  upon  Orion,  and  ask,  What 
is  beyond  ?  What  is  beyond  Arcturus  ? 
What  is  beyond  the  furthest  space  ?  There 
is  being,  there  is  existence.  So  much  is 
clear.  Then  the  Saviour  of  mankind  says 
to  us  that  this  Being  is  conscious  Being, 
that  this  Being  knows  us  and  we  may 
know  him,  that  this  Being  loves  us  and 
we  may  love  him.  Our  foundation,  that 
which  we  build  upon,  is  the  Conscious 
Being  in  which  worlds  move,  in  which 
trees  grow,  in  which  seasons  pass,  in 
which  all  things  are. 

That  is  our  Rock ;  and  religion  is  our 
effort  to  come  into  relation  with  this  Being, 
to  listen  to  what  he  says  to  us,  to  tell  him 
what  we  would  say  to  him.  We  may  give 
wider  definitions  to  religion  in  our  duties 

to 


36 

to  each  other ;  but  what  we  call  personal 
religion,  the  religion  of  a  man's  life,  is  the 
effort  to  draw  nearer  to  God,  to  know  him, 
to  listen  to  what  he  has  to  say,  to  tell  him 
what  is  in  our  heart.  It  is  that  which 
brings  us  here  this  afternoon  or  in  the 
chapel  service  in  the  morning;  it  is  to 
gain  that,  that  we  pray ;  and  it  is  that  by 
which  we  trust  him  in  the  hour  of  joy  or 
sorrow.  We  seek  to  know  him,  and  build 
our  lives  upon  this  Rock  of  Ages. 


L 


V. 

CHRIST   AND    NATHANAEL. 

JOHN  i.  43-51. 

ET  me  ask  you  to  think  for  a  few 
moments  on  the  very  interesting 
character  brought  before  us  in  these  verses, 
—  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  those 
characters  in  the  Gospel  which  are  drawn 
with  a  few  touches,  and  yet  stand  out  very 
clearly  in  the  picture.  They  are  very  dis- 
tinctly before  us,  not  because  they  are 
elaborately  drawn,  but  because  their  nat- 
ures are  so  simple.  Nathanael,  one  of 
these  disciples,  has  a  singular  freshness, 
loveliness,  and  beauty  about  him,  which, 
I  am  sure,  always  attracts  us  to  him.  I 
feel  as  if  Jesus  himself  must  have  loved 
him  peculiarly.  He  came  so  freshly  and 
naturally  to  Christ,  he  entered  so  com- 
pletely into  his  ideas,  and  made  himself 
so  naturally  and  so  readily  his  disciple. 
There  was  just  enough  questioning  to  in- 
dicate 


38 

dicate  the  activity  of  an  earnest  mind. 
At  the  same  time  there  was  a  readiness 
to  give  himself  to  that  Jesus  who  pre- 
sented himself  to  him,  and  seemed  to  be 
the  light  for  which  he  had  been  yearning. 

These  short  conversations  seem  to  be 
full  of  interest,  as  they  lead  us  on  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  of  a  young  man's 
history,  who  in  the  first  place  is  seen 
looking  after  the  truth,  and  in  the  end  is 
seen  consecrating  himself  to  Christ. 

Think  how  naturally  these  speeches  fol- 
low each  other.  The  first  is  the  address 
of  a  young  man  to  a  fellow-student  en- 
gaged in  that  occupation  which  draws  men 
more  and  more  closely  to  each  other ;  for 
there  is  nothing,  I  think,  that  can  bring 
men  so  earnestly  together  as  the  com- 
mon search  after  truth.  Common  circum- 
stances, the  common  search  for  advantage, 
have  something  to  do  in  bringing  men 
together ;  but,  when  you  take  men  of  kin- 
dred mind  and  heart,  joined  in  the  great 
search  after  truth,  following  it  with  the 
deepest  enthusiasm  with  which  men  can 
follow,  then  how  closely  such  souls  are 
drawn  to  each  other !  Philip  and  Nathan- 
ael  had  lived  together,  and  sought  together 

for 


Ctjrtet  ana  ^at&anael*          39 

for  the  fulfilment  of  the  prophecy  written 
in  the  ancient  history  of  Israel.  Vague 
and  unrealized  it  was  before  them,  yet 
they  felt  it  was  to  be  fulfilled  in  some  way 
and  in  some  time.  They  had  grown  to- 
gether in  this  common  wish.  They  had 
told  each  other  of  their  common  hopes. 
Each  one  had  some  glimpse  of  that  which 
was  coming ;  and  now,  at  last,  one  of  them 
comes  and  says :  "  The  search  is  at  last 
satisfied :  that  for  which  we  have  been 
seeking  is  found.  We  have  found  him 
who  was  expected,  who  was  foretold  by 
the  prophets." 

Philip  comes  and  tells  Nathanael,  as  if 
he  would  immediately  share  that  which  he 
had  learned  with  one  who  was  as  dear  to 
him  as  his  own  soul,  as  if  the  truth  could 
not  be  his  until  he  had  imparted  it.  There 
can  be  no  richer  moment  in  any  man's 
life  than  when  he  is  able  to  help  forward 
the  search  for  truth,  and  to  impart  to 
others  the  truth  which  he  has  himself 
received.  And  so  these  young  men  stand 
out  with  great  simplicity,  and  yet  with 
great  richness,  in  their  relationship  one 
with  another,  Philip  finding  Nathanael, 
and  saying  to  him:  "We  have  found  him 

of 


40  C?artoara 

of  whom  Moses  in  the  law  and  the  proph- 
ets did  write.  The  Messiah  has  at  last 
come." 

Then  see  how  Nathanael  receives  Jesus 
at  the  representation  of  Philip.  We  see 
how  intelligent  he  was,  and  yet  how  ready 
and  receptive.  He  does  not  dispense  with 
his  criticism.  He  does  not  fail  to  say  to 
his  friend  that  his  word  does  not  entirely 
satisfy  his  anticipations.  It  was  not  from 
poor,  despised  Nazareth,  but  somewhere 
upon  the  heights  of  Jerusalem,  that  that 
new  truth  was  going  to  shine.  That  a 
man  who  has  been  longing  for  the  truth 
in  one  place  should  be  disturbed  when  it 
shows  itself  in  another ;  that  that  which 
he  thought  was  one  of  the  conditions  of 
finding  the  truth  should  prove,  when  the 
truth  comes  in  some  other  way,  not  to  be 
essential, —  that  is  very  perplexing.  A 
man  would  not  be  thoughtful  and  intelli- 
gent if  it  were  not  so.  Yet,  when  Philip 
turns  to  Nathanael,  and  says,  "Come  and 
see;  come  and  look  upon  this  man,  and 
see  whether  he  be  not  the  Messiah ;  come 
and  look  upon  his  truth,  and  let  it  relate 
itself  to  your  soul,  and  see  whether  it  be 
not  what  we  have  been  seeking  for,"  then 

come 


Christ  ana  jjiatbanad.          4l 

come  forward  the  candor,  the  largeness,, 
the  receptivity,  of  the  man.  He  goes  with 
his  friend  with  an  objection  in  his  soul, 
but  with  a  determination  that  it  shall  not 
stand  in  the  way  of  his  receiving  the 
truth.  No  petty  objection  about  Nazareth 
shall  come  between  him  and  the  Messiah. 
He  will  look  into  his  eyes ;  and,  if  Jesus 
reveals  himself  to  his  soul,  and  lays  hold 
upon  him  with  a  grasp  with  which  the 
Messiah  may  take  hold  of  the  Jew  who 
has  been  waiting  for  him,  he  will  become 
his  disciple. 

And  so  he  comes  into  his  presence;  and 
Jesus  says,  "Behold  an  Israelite  indeed, 
in  whom  there  is  no  guile."  Israel  meant 
something  divine  to  the  Saviour.  It 
meant  some  great  idea.  He  was  looking 
in  vain  in  the  faces  about  him  to  find  it 
fulfilled.  When  this  young  man  came  to 
him  here,  with  his  earnestness  and  enthu- 
siasm and  candor,  seeking  the  truth,  anx- 
ious to  have  his  questions  answered,  and 
Jesus  saw  all  this  in  his  face,  he  said : 
"  Here  is  the  Israelite  whom  I  have  been 
looking  for ;  here  is  the  true  Jew  who  has 
been  waiting  for  my  coming;  here  is  the 
great  family  which  the  Son  may  bring  to 

the 


42 

the  Father,  with  that  spirit  which  he 
brought  into  the  world,  as  the  Father's 
anointed  Son." 

Every  generation  of  life  has  its  ideas 
which  must  be  fulfilled.  Israel  has  be- 
come a  poor,  stunted  thing ;  but  it  was 
full  of  an  idea  which  it  had  had  in  all  its 
history,  and  with  which  it  was  constantly 
replenishing  itself.  Jesus  was  going  to 
make  it  complete.  Jesus  saw  in  Nathanael 
something  of  the  fulfilment  of  that  Israel 
to  which  he  had  come  to  manifest  God. 
So  it  is  in  every  life ;  so  it  is  with  our 
church  membership  and  our  citizenship ; 
so  it  is  in  college  and  everywhere  else. 
Those  things  which  belong  to  us  in  our 
natural  relationships  are  capable  of  much 
vaster  fulfilment  than  we  can  give  to  them. 
When  we  fulfil  them  with  a  true  life, 
then  the  idea  is  complete.  When  the  cit- 
izen is  the  complete  citizen,  when  the 
scholar  is  the  complete  scholar,  when  the 
man  himself  is  the  complete  servant  in  the 
relation  in  which  he  is  placed,  then  God 
can  manifest  himself  to  him  in  fuller  life. 
This  is  the  sacredness  of  the  partial  rela- 
tionships in  which  we  stand.  If  we  fulfil 
them  with  a  large,  complete,  consecrated 

life, 


Cljrtet  anD  jjiatfjanael.          43 

life,  then  the  fullest  manifestation  of  God 
may  come  to  us  in  them,  as  it  came  to 
Nathanael  in  his  place  in  Israel. 

Then  Nathanael  says  to  Jesus,  "Whence 
knowest  thou  me  ? "  And  Jesus  says  to 
Nathanael,  "Before  Philip  called  thee, 
when  thou  wast  under  the  fig-tree,  I  saw 
thee."  It  makes  a  deep  impression  upon 
Nathanael's  mind  that  Jesus  should  have 
known  him  before  he  knew  Jesus,  that 
Jesus  should  have  been  conscious  of  him, 
with  a  life  that  was  higher  than  that  which 
he  had  carried  unto  the  life  and  presence 
of  Jesus.  It  is  a  thing  which  must  always 
impress  the  soul.  That  I  should  go  to 
God,  and  find  God,  and,  when  I  find  him, 
should  realize  that  God  knew  me  before 
I  knew  him, —  that  is  a  thing  which  lays 
hold  upon  the  human  soul.  You  may  go 
to  a  friend  and  brother,  and  try  to  make 
him  see  the  glory  of  the  Christian  life,  the 
glory  of  unselfishness ;  but  how  can  you 
impress  him  so  completely  as  when  you 
conduct  him  to  the  Master,  and  tell  him 
that  that  Christ  has  been  giving  himself 
to  him,  and  that  there  has  never  been  a 
moment  when  that  Christ  has  not  been 
pressing  himself  upon  his  life  ?  That  is 

the 


44  H?artoard 

the  richness  of  the  Christian  life, —  that  it 
is  simply  laying  hold  on  something  which 
has  been  from  the  beginning  of  our  exist- 
ence, something  which  has  been  pressing 
upon  our  lives. 

You  remember  those  great  words  of 
Paul,  in  which  he  describes  the  fulness 
of  his  life.  He  had  such  a  multitude  of 
great  phrases  in  which  he  put  the  richness 
of  his  life  ;  and  this,  I  think,  is  one  of 
them :  "  I  follow  after,  if  that  I  may  appre- 
hend that  for  which  lam  also  apprehended 
of  Christ."  That  seems  rich  and  great. 
Christ  Jesus  apprehended  me,  that  I  might 
apprehend  Christ  Jesus;  that,  realizing 
the  divine  force,  the  great  powers  that 
have  been  from  the  beginning  at  work 
upon  my  life,  I  may  be  able  to  respond  to 
them,  to  lay  hold  on,  to  apprehend  them 
as  they  have  apprehended  me.  There  are 
forces  vaster  than  we  know  of  that  are 
apprehending  us.  God  has  put  forth  all 
the  power  that  is  needful  to  put  forth. 
There  is  nothing  for  us  to  do  but  to  re- 
spond with  a  large  consecration,  that  we 
may  grasp  the  highest  manifestation  of 
that  divine  love  which  it  is  possible  for  us 
to  lay  hold  on. 

And  then  note  the  last  word  which 

Jesus 


Christ  anD  jftatljanacl.          45 

Jesus  says,  when  Nathanael  has  declared 
himself  his  disciple.  Impressed  by  the 
manner  in  which  he  has  entered  into  dis- 
cipleship,  Jesus  says  :  "  Do  not  think  that 
you  have  exhausted  all ;  do  not  think  that 
this  little  beginning  is  the  whole.  Here- 
after, you  shall  see  greater  things  than 
this."  Know  that  every  point  of  life  which 
we  have  reached,  just  in  proportion  as  it 
is  pure  and  holy,  is  the  beginning  of  the 
infinite  life.  Be  sure  that  God  has  so 
much  more  for  the  soul  as  it  goes  on, 
becoming  richer  and  richer ;  that  every 
new  relationship  of  the  soul  with  God  is 
not  merely  a  sign  of  thankfulness  for  that 
which  is  passed,  but  a  new  opening  of  our 
nature,  into  which  God  shall  pour  more 
and  more  of  himself.  In  each  new  conse- 
cration, some  new  gift  becomes  possible, 
and  for  that  new  gift  some  new  consecra- 
tion becomes  necessary,  and  in  that  new 
consecration  comes  some  new  gift.  So 
this  everlasting  reciprocity  goes  on,  each 
new  gift  bringing  new  consecration,  and 
each  new  consecration  making  a  new  gift 
possible.  So  the  soul  goes  on  entering 
into  God,  and  receiving  God  unto  himself. 
"Because  I  saw  thee  under  the  fig-tree, 
believest  thou  ?  thou  shalt  see  greater 
things  than  these." 


VI. 

SEMBLANCE  OR  REALITY. 

MARK  viii.  10-24. 

OUR  Lord  had  gone  into  the  village  of 
Bethsaida.  They  brought  a  blind 
man  to  him.  He  took  him  by  the  hand,  and 
touched  his  eyes,  and  asked  him  if  he  saw 
anything.  The  answer  was,  "I  see  men 
as  trees  walking."  He  had  not  been  born 
blind.  He  knew  men,  and  knew  trees. 
He  knew  that  these  were  not  trees,  and 
he  did  not  act  toward  them  as  if  they  were 
trees.  He  acted  upon  what  he  knew,  and 
treated  them  as  men.  Judging  merely  by 
appearance,  he  might  have  been  tempted 
to  climb  into  them  or  cut  them  down; 
but,  judging  by  the  knowledge  he  had,  he 
could  greet  them  as  men,  and  receive  a 
greeting  from  them  in  return. 

This  is  the  only  one  of  our  Lord's  mir- 
acles which  is  divided.  I  do  not  know 
why  it  is  divided,  except  to  teach  us  the 

incompleteness 


Semblance  or  Healitv.          47 

incompleteness  of  life  and  the  inconsist- 
encies between  the  things  we  know  and 
the  things  we  see;  to  teach  us  to  judge 
by  our  knowledge  rather  than  by  the  out- 
ward appearance.  We  are  familiar  with 
the  line  that  "things  are  not  what  they 
seem."  It  would  be  a  very  dismal  truth, 
were  we  not  able  to  enlarge  it  with  an- 
other truth, —  that,  whatever  things  may 
seem  to  us,  we  are  not  subject  to  the  ap- 
pearances, but  are  able  to  control  our  con- 
duct by  our  knowledge  of  realities. 

This  becomes  true  in  many  different 
relations  in  life.  I  have  that  knowledge 
of  my  friend  which  makes  him  perfectly 
trustworthy.  I  can  depend  upon  him  for 
everything;  but,  some  day,  he  does  some- 
thing that  is  not  compatible  with  that 
friendship.  Shall  I  give  him  up  or  trust 
him  still?  I  have  a  conception  of  a  hero, 
with  a  tall,  commanding  figure,  with  dig- 
nity upon  his  brow;  but,  when  I  see  him, 
he  is  a  short  man,  with  low  brow,  and 
nothing  of  grandeur  about  him.  Shall  I 
give  up  my  idea  of  heroism,  or  say,  in 
spite  of  everything,  that  he  is  a  hero  still? 
I  act  from  what  I  know.  I  interpret  the 
appearance  by  that  reality  which  I  knew 

before 


48  J?arbar& 

before  I  saw  the  appearance.  Our  familiar 
saying  that  we  judge  men  by  their  actions 
is  not  more  true  than  the  other  necessity, 
that  we  judge  actions  by  their  men.  We 
are  continually  compelled  to  interpret  that 
which  appears  by  that  which  we  saw  be- 
fore the  appearance. 

Carry  this  into  the  ethical  relations  of 
life.  Duty  seems  to  a  man,  when  he  is 
alone,  meditating  in  his  house  by  himself, 
to  be  the  "stern  daughter  of  the  Voice  of 
God"  ;  but,  when  he  ventures  out  into  the 
street,  it  has  lost  some  of  its  grandeur,  not 
exhibiting  any  such  authority  and  not  re- 
ceiving any  such  homage.  When  a  man 
thinks  about  truth  in  the  morning,  the 
truth  seems  to  him  to  be  pure  and  sacred. 
He  looks  out  upon  life,  feeling  that  his 
sword  shall  never  be  drawn  but  in  her 
defence,  repeating  the  words  of  John  Pym, 
"I  would  rather  suffer  for  speaking  the 
truth  than  that  the  truth  should  suffer  for 
want  of  my  speaking."  Then  he  goes  out 
into  life,  and  sees  that  truth  is  different  in 
the  maxims  of  men.  Truth  speaks,  and 
men  do  not  listen  to  it;  and  he  finds  him- 
self tempted  not  to  listen  with  that  defer- 
ence which  he  thought  in  the  morning  he 
should  pay. 

Charity, 


Semblance  or  l&ealitp.          49 

Charity,  too,  seems  so  divine  in  the 
morning.  He  thinks  of  the  glory  of  liv- 
ing for  others;  and  he  says,  The  value  of 
my  life  is  in  its  service.  He  goes  out 
again  into  the  world,  and  he  finds  himself 
tempted  to  be  selfish  and  grasping;  and 
he  forgets  that  he  was  not  to  live,  not  to 
strive,  for  himself.  Shall  he  be  governed 
by  truth  as  it  is  on  the  street,  by  charity 
as  it  appears  in  the  conflicts  of  the  world? 
Or  shall  he  be  governed  by  duty  as  he 
knows  duty,  by  truth  as  he  knows  it  in 
the  sincerity  in  which  he  has  seen  it,  and 
by  charity  in  that  reality  which  he  has 
found  in  his  own  closet? 

It  is  thus  that  we  need  to  be  on  our 
guard,  lest  we  take  our  conceptions  from 
appearances,  and  do  violence  to  the  higher 
knowledge  which  we  have.  For  man  has 
the  realization  of  the  highest  things  in  the 
life  of  the  men  to  whom  he  pays  his  most 
reverent  respect;  he  has  the  teachings  of 
God's  Word;  he  has  the  teachings  of  the 
spirit  of  truth  and  duty  and  charity,  the 
teachings  of  an  unseen  spirit.  And,  if  he 
is  wise,  he  will  be  governed  by  what  he 
knows,  and  will  not  treat  men  as  trees, 
because  in  the  mists  of  the  world  a  man 

seems 


50 

seems  to  be  a  tree.  He  will  govern  him- 
self by  the  reality  which  he  possesses 
rather  than  by  the  semblance  which  the 
world  offers. 

There  is  a  common  impression  that  men 
seem  to  be  better  than  they  are.  For 
one,  I  do  not  believe  it.  I  think  men  are 
better  than  they  seem.  I  think  it  is  a 
rare  man  who  shows  the  best  of  himself 
to  the  world,  his  deepest  convictions,  his 
highest  conceptions  of  duty,  his  most  pro- 
found belief  in  charity,  and  who  lives  out 
the  deepest  and  holiest  thoughts  which  he 
has  in  the  midst  of  the  world  that  needs, 
though  it  may  not  ask,  this  gift. 

If  we  are  to  give  anything  to  the  world, 
it  must  be  by  this  strength  of  our  personal 
devotion,  throwing  down  in  the  midst  of 
these  shadows  and  semblances  the  reality 
of  truth  and  duty  and  charity,  as  we  have 
seen  these  things.  For  we  are  old  enough 
and  wise  enough  to  make  no  serious  mis- 
take in  life.  We  know  enough  never  to 
treat  a  tree  as  if  it  were  a  man,  and  always 
to  treat  a  man  as  if  he  were  not  a  tree. 
Realities, —  things  as  we  know  them, — 
these  are  to  possess  us  and  to  control  our 
lives. 


VII. 

THE   SINCERITY   OF   GOD. 

2  COR.  i.  12. 

PERHAPS  of  all  the  qualities  in  a 
noble  character,  this  of  sincerity  is 
the  most  widely  and  deeply  interesting. 
There  are  many  men  who  do  not  care 
much  for  piety;  that  is,  for  the  distinct 
recognition  and  worship  of  God.  They 
do  not  care  much  for  saints;  that  is,  for 
those  who  walk  by  and  commune  with  the 
unseen.  There  are  many  men  who  do  not 
value  as  they  should  the  qualities  of  gen- 
tleness, patience,  and  silent  equanimity ; 
and  yet  all  these  men  would  be  found 
to  respond  most  heartily  and  most  fully 
to  this  grand  quality  of  sincerity.  The 
reason  seems  to  be  this :  that,  for  the 
just  appreciation  of  the  first  named  qual- 
ities, a  certain  degree  of  moral  experience, 
of  spiritual  cultivation,  seems  necessary ; 
whereas,  all  that  is  needed  for  the  ap- 
preciation 


52  Jt>art)arD 

preciation  of  sincerity  is  simply  the  full 
equipment  of  a  man,  the  possession  of 
large  human  instincts.  Bring  a  great 
singer,  say  Jenny  Lind,  before  some  large 
popular  audience,  and  ask  her  to  sing 
what  she  considers  her  best  piece.  It 
will  be  appreciated  very  intensely  and 
very  deeply  by  a  few ;  but  it  will  be  be- 
yond the  majority  in  that  gathering,  it 
will  presuppose  more  musical  cultivation 
than  they  possess.  But  now  ask  her  to 
sing  a  song  from  Moore  or  Burns ;  and 
the  appreciation  is  universal,  deep,  in- 
tense, and  the  response  marvellous.  The 
reason  is  that  in  the  first  case  there  is 
presumed  more  culture  than  exists.  In 
the  second  case,  all  that  is  necessary  for 
appreciation  is  human  instinct,  human 
sympathy.  So  with  this  quality  of  sin- 
cerity :  all  that  is  necessary  to  the  appre- 
ciation of  its  worth  is  simply  the  heart 
and  soul  and  nature  of  man. 

Now,  this  quality,  so  deeply  interesting 
to  young  life,  is  defined  for  us  by  the 
apostle,  in  the  very  words  that  he  uses, 
—  sincerity  of  God.  He  means,  by  sin- 
cerity, testing  one's  self  by  the  light  of 
God's  life,  and,  in  the  test,  finding  one's 

self 


of  <S5oD*          53 

self  approved.  You  step  into  a  store  : 
you  see  what  seems  to  be  a  beautiful 
vase.  As  you  look  at  it  standing  before 
you,  it  seems  perfectly  sound.  You  want 
to  know  whether  the  appearance  and  the 
reality  correspond, —  whether  it  is  just 
what  it  seems  to  be.  You  take  it  up, 
and  hold  it  between  you  and  the  light. 
The  light  flows  through  it.  If  there  is 
any  flaw,  any  stain,  spot,  or  defect,  it  will 
be  revealed.  If  it  is  perfect,  if  it  is  sound 
and  fine,  that  will  also  be  revealed. 

Now,  the  apostle  says  that  we  need  to 
bring  ourselves  into  the  presence  of  God, 
and  hold  ourselves  up  in  his  light,  and  let 
the  light  of  his  character  stream  through 
us.  And  then,  as  we  look  at  ourselves, 
illuminated  by  the  radiance  of  his  being, 
all  the  defects  and  flaws  and  stains  and 
spots  in  our  nature,  if  there  are  any,  will 
stand  out  before  us  clear  and  recogniz- 
able. And,  if  we  are  fine  and  really 
sound  through  and  through,  that  fineness 
and  that  soundness  will  also  appear  in 
that  same  light:  we  are  tested  by  the 
light,  and  found  true. 

This  definition  of  sincerity  will  explain 
to  us  a  very  common  phenomenon  in  our 

life,— 


54 

life, —  that  a  great  many  men  sincerely 
say  they  are  sincere  when  they  are  not 
sincere.  The  reason  is  that  they  test 
themselves  by  inadequate  light.  You 
step  into  a  store  to  buy  you  a  shade 
for  your  lamp.  You  see  it  on  the  counter 
before  you ;  and  it  appears  to  be,  as  in 
the  previous  case,  perfectly  sound.  You 
take  it  home,  and  place  it  over  your  burn- 
ing light ;  and  that  light  flowing  through 
it  shows  that  it  is  practically  useless. 
Tested  by  one  degree  of  light,  it  was  all 
right ;  tested  by  another,  it  was  all  wrong. 
Now,  we  look  at  ourselves,  judge  our- 
selves, in  the  twilight  of  a  crude  moral 
sense,  in  the  twilight  of  a  crude  social 
conscience.  Because  we  cannot  see  the 
stain  and  the  flaw  and  the  spot  and  the 
defect  in  ourselves  by  that  light,  we  con- 
clude that  we  are  sound.  Yet  if  we  set 
the  spirit  of  God  in  our  hearts,  the  spirit 
of  the  Master  of  Christendom  in  the  in- 
terior of  our  nature,  and  let  the  illumina- 
tion of  his  life  pour  forth,  our  secret  and 
hidden  faults  will  stand  out ;  and  we,  who 
before  thought  we  were  sincere,  sound, 
true  to  the  core,  will  find  ourselves  false 
and  unworthy. 

The 


of  «5od»          55 

The  end  of  these  few  remarks  and  the 
object  toward  which  I  am  drifting  is  this  : 
that  quality  which  we  think  can  be  culti- 
vated by  an  atheistical  nature,  which  we 
think  can  be  cultivated  in  separation  from 
the  Supreme  Being,  in  the  apostle's  view, 
and  according  to  his  definition,  leads  us 
to  God  just  as  surely  as  the  saint's  faith 
leads  to  him.  For,  just  as  the  man  who 
makes  a  vase  makes  it  in  the  sunlight, 
and  his  idea  of  fineness  and  soundness  is 
taken  up  and  expanded  and  purified  by 
the  sunlight,  and  the  sunlight  is  his  stand- 
ard of  a  successful  approach  to  a  perfect 
embodiment  of  his  idea,  so  we  come  into 
the  presence  of  Christ,  through  whom  the 
radiance  of  God's  nature  streams  on  the 
world;  and  our  idea  of  soundness  and 
fineness  is  taken  up  and  purified  and  en- 
larged immeasurably  by  his  action  upon 
us.  We  test  ourselves  by  him,  and  see, 
as  we  are  in  his  presence,  whether  or  not 
we  are  approaching  more  and  more  to  the 
perfect  embodiment  of  the  idea  of  sincerity 
in  our  individual  life. 

This  to  me  is  very  interesting.  As  I 
hinted  at  the  outset,  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  very  blood  of  youth  is  all  aglow  and 

on 


56 

on  fire  with  the  appreciation  of  this  quality 
of  sincerity, —  as  if  a  young  man  would 
die  sooner  than  give  up  the  thought  of  the 
ultimate  complete  possession  of  soundness 
of  soul.  And  yet,  for  him  to  gain  that 
quality  in  its  completeness,  he  must  have 
a  model.  He  must  work  in  the  presence 
of  that  model,  just  as  the  artist  does,  just 
as  the  poet  does,  just  as  the  man  who 
wishes  to  attain  excellence  in  any  line 
of  life  must  work  in  the  presence  of  an 
ideal. 

So  this  sincerity,  if  we  earnestly  desire 
to  possess  it,  leads  us  into  the  presence  of 
the  ideally  sincere  man,  that  our  ideal  of 
it  may  be  glorified  by  him  and  our  progress 
into  the  possession  of  it  be  more  and  more 
assured. 

Is  not  this  a  grand  faith  to  have, —  to 
be  tested  by  the  eternal  light  and  found 
true ;  illuminated  by  the  central  radiance 
of  the  moral  and  spiritual  universe,  to  find 
ourselves,  in  that  eternal  light,  flawless, 
stainless,  spotless,  and  pure?  It  seems  to 
me  a  most  inspiring  faith  for  any  one  to 
have.  Let  us  pursue  it  with  the  energy 
and  zeal  and  enthusiasm  and  manliness  of 
young  life,  led  by  the  passion  for  it  into 

the 


SClje  £>tneerit£  of  <0oD.          57 

the  presence  of  the  Son  of  God,  seeking 
through  him  to  bring  the  eternal  light 
into  our  human  lives.  Let  this  be  our 
faith  and  our  endeavor, —  to  be  tested  by 
the  eternal  light,  and  found  true. 


VIII. 

OPENING  THE   DOOR. 
REV.  iii.  20. 

I  WANT  to  pause  before  this  wonderful 
image  of  Christ  standing  at  the  door 
of  human  life,  and  asking,  like  a  weary 
traveller,  to  be  let  in.  It  seems  to  set 
before  us  the  two  ways  in  which  a  man 
may  stand  over  against  the  possibilities 
and  opportunities  of  his  life.  One  way  is 
as  if  we  stood  outside  of  these  possibili- 
ties, trying  to  get  in  to  them  ;  the  other 
way  is  as  if  they  stood  outside,  and  were 
trying  to  get  in  to  us.  Under  the  one 
view,  we  stand  at  their  door  and  knock, 
if  perchance  they  will  let  us  in  :  under 
the  other  view,  they  stand  knocking  at 
our  door,  if  perchance  we  can  hear  their 
voice,  and  let  them  in.  The  first  view  of 
life  is  the  common  one.  Its  possibilities 
seem  hidden  from  us  under  lock  and  key, 
and  we  give  ourselves  with  all  our  efforts 

to 


tfje  SDoor.  59 

to  unlocking  them.  We  are  like  the  be- 
siegers of  a  city  full  of  treasure.  The 
money  and  the  successes  which  we  seek 
lie  within,  and  we  stand  not  so  much 
knocking  at  their  door  as  battering  at 
their  gate  and  scaling  their  wall. 

This,  I  say,  is  the  common  way  of 
looking  at  our  life, —  the  way  of  attack 
and  struggle  and  victory ;  and  perhaps  it 
is  the  only  way  in  which  one  can  regard 
many  of  the  problems  of  his  money-get- 
ting and  his  competitive  success.  But, 
when  we  turn  to  the  deeper  experiences 
of  life,  the  other  way  begins  to  open. 
Truth,  beauty,  love,  wisdom,  peace,  for- 
giveness,—  of  these  things,  which  are  the 
great  possessions  of  human  life,  it  is  not 
so  true  to  say  that  they  hide  themselves 
from  us  as  that  we  hide  ourselves  from 
them,  and  will  not  let  them  in. 

Take,  for  instance,  any  scientific  discov- 
ery, such  as  the  electric  light  which  illu- 
minates our  streets.  There  it  has  been, 
—  this  wonderful  power  of  electricity,  sur- 
rounding human  life  with  its  possibilities 
of  usefulness,  and  knocking  at  the  doors 
of  scientific  men  since  science  began ; 
and,  at  last,  a  few  men  are  able  to  hear 

this 


60 


this  persistent  knocking,  and  open  their 
doors,  and  then  these  inventions  of  elec- 
tricity find  their  way  into  our  affairs.  We 
call  it  a  new  force,  but  it  is  not  a  new 
force.  It  is  only  a  new  awakening  of 
the  mind  to  understand  a  force  which 
has  been  always  bearing  upon  us.  It  is 
almost  terrible  to  think  of  the  many  other 
secrets  of  thp  universe  which  must  be  thus 
still  knocking  at  our  doors,  and  waiting  to 
get  in  to  us,  and  to  imagine  how  sense- 
less and  unreceptive  we  must  seem  to  an 
omniscient  mind,  when  so  many  blessings 
meant  for  us  are  beaten  back  from  our 
closed  minds  and  wills.  And  think,  still 
further,  how  it  is  that  such  truth  does 
reach  men  when  it  reaches  them  at  all. 
It  is  not  by  lying  idle  and  passive  for  its 
approaches.  It  is  not  without  effort  and 
discipline  that  such  insight  arrives.  No: 
it  is  by  training  the  mind,  so  that  it  can 
open  its  doors.  This  is  the  end  of  educa- 
tion, —  the  opening  of  the  door  of  the 
mind.  It  is  the  making  one's  self  quick 
with  receptivity  toward  truth,  so  that, 
when  truth  speaks,  we  hear  its  voice,  and 
recognize  it  as  the  voice  of  truth,  and  let 
it  in.  Most  men  are  so  sluggish  that  they 

do 


ttje  Door*  61 

do  not  hear  the  knock :  many  men  are  so 
feeble  that  they  cannot  open  the  door. 
But,  when  a  truth  is  first  heard  and  then 
welcomed,  then  it  is  that  a  great  discov- 
ery is  made.  We  say  that  the  man  dis- 
covered the  truth ;  but,  to  the  man  him- 
self, it  is  as  if  the  truth  spoke  to  him,  and 
he  had  heard  its  voice,  and  let  it  in. 

The  same  thing  is  true  in  a  man's  re- 
lations to  his  duty.  When  we  have  to 
determine  between  right  and  wrong,  we 
are  apt  to  take  refuge  in  the  idea  that  it 
is  hard  to  find  out  what  is  right,  that  our 
duty  hides  from  us,  and  that  we  are  trying 
to  find  out  what  it  is ;  and,  because  it 
does  not  let  us  in  when  we  are  knocking 
at  its  door,  therefore  we  make  our  mis- 
takes and  commit  our  sins.  But  the  fact 
is  that  this  is  very  rarely  true.  If  we  set 
ourselves,  with  a  perfectly  open  mind,  to 
see  what  is  right  and  to  discover  what  is 
wrong,  it  is  one  of  the  rarest  things  in  the 
world  that  duty  is  not  made  clear.  How 
do  we  act?  We  do  not  honestly  try  for 
this  one  end  alone.  We  shut  out  from 
ourselves  this  clear  distinction.  We  min- 
gle it  with  other  motives.  We  do  what  is 
wrong,  and  pretend  to  ourselves  that  it  is 

right. 


62 


right.  We  think  that  what  is  manifestly 
wrong  will  change  itself  some  day  into 
right.  I  suppose  that  even  great  crimes 
come  about  thus.  A  man  in  his  business 
moves  step  by  step  into  fraudulent  prac- 
tices, until  at  last  both  he  and  society  are 
smitten  with  a  great  disgrace  ;  and  yet,  at 
every  step,  he  defends  himself  with  the 
assertion  that  he  has  done  nothing  wrong. 
He  blurs  his  sense  of  right.  It  is  not  that 
his  duty  is  not  there,  but  that  he  will  not 
hear  its  voice.  It  is  knocking  at  his  door; 
but  he  pretends  that  there  is  no  knocking, 
and  bars  himself  against  the  summons. 
And  then,  at  last,  he  looks  back  over  the 
whole  awful  series  of  slight  perversions 
of  the  right,  and  sees  that  at  each  step 
his  duty  stood  before  his  life,  plain  and 
persuasive,  if  only  he  would  have  heard 
its  voice,  and  let  it  in.  There  is  no 
greater  self-deception  than  this  imagining 
that  it  is  hard  to  find  out  what  it  is  right 
to  do.  The  difficulty  lies  not  in  the  rev- 
elation of  the  right  to  us,  but  in  the  open- 
ing of  ourselves  to  the  revelations  of  the 
right.  Duty  stands,  for  the  most  part, 
close  at  hand,  unobscured,  simple,  imme- 
diate. If  any  man  has  the  will  to  hear 

her 


Opening  tlje  E>oor«  63 

her  voice,  to  him  is  she  willing  to  enter, 
and  be  his  ready  guest. 

Now,  this  which  is  true  in  the  world  of 
thought  and  in  the  world  of  duty  is  —  as  I 
want  to  say,  with  even  more  of  seriousness 
—  true  of  the  largest  relations  in  which  we 
find  ourselves, —  the  relations  of  the  relig- 
ious life.  When  we  first  think  of  religion, 
it  seems  to  us  a  matter  full  of  difficulty. 
God  seems  to  hide  Himself,  and  we  seem 
to  be  searching  for  Him  with  our  books 
and  our  learning  amid  the  mysteries  of  His 
hiding-place.  Christ  seems  to  us  a  prob- 
lem which  we  have  to  solve,  and  which  has 
perplexed  the  wisest  of  inquirers.  The 
blessings  of  the  religious  life,  such  as  the 
forgiveness  of  our  sins,  seem  to  be  kept 
under  lock  and  key,  as  though  we  were 
knocking  at  the  door  of  a  severe  Divinity 
and  asking,  as  suppliants,  to  be  let  in.  But 
what  is  the  truth  about  religion  ?  The 
great  and  awful  truth  —  awful  in  its  stu- 
pendous simplicity  —  is  this:  that  these 
infinite  blessings  are  seeking  us  before 
ever  we  searched  for  them,  and  are  wait- 
ing, not  for  our  proof,  but  simply  for  our 
acceptance.  We  think  we  discover,  verify, 
and  prove  them.  Scholars  knock  at  their 

door 


64 

door  with  the  books  which  solve  these 
problems ;  and,  indeed,  there  are  mysteries 
enough  to  satisfy  all  learning  and  research. 
But  the  deepest  mystery  of  all  is  this :  that, 
if  the  love  of  God,  the  power  of  Christ, 
the  forgiveness  of  sins,  are  to  have  any 
reality  for  us,  it  must  be  as  living  and 
active  forces  knocking  at  our  doors  and 
asking  to  be  let  in.  How  are  we  to  think 
of  God  ?  It  must  be  as  always  accessible, 
if  we  would  but  have  it  so,  searching  for  us 
before  ever  we  searched  for  him.  We  love 
Him  because  He  first  loved  us.  When  we 
turn  to  Him,  it  is  but  our  answer  to  His 
call  to  us.  It  is  the  father  of  the  prodigal, 
—  waiting  with  an  infinite  patience  and 
love,  and  coming  to  meet  us,  if  we  will 
but  turn  even  with  faltering  step,  and 
make  ourselves  accessible  to  Him.  How 
are  we  to  think  of  Christ  ?  Behind  all  as- 
pects of  Him  as  the  problem  of  the  ages, 
and  all  the  perplexity  of  His  wondrous 
personality,  lies  the  power  of  His  prac- 
tical and  present  leadership.  We  do  not 
first  find  Him,  but  He  finds  us.  It  is  not 
the  sheep  which  look  for  the  shepherd : 
it  is  the  shepherd  who  searches  for  the 
sheep;  and,  when  they  hear  his  voice,  they 

follow 


ti)t  Door*  65 

follow  him.  Even  so  Christ  calls  to  men : 
"Behold,  I  stand  at  your  door  and  knock. 
If  you  will  not  hear  my  voice,  I  cannot 
enter ;  but,  if  any  man  will  hear  my  voice, 
I  will  come  in."  And  how  shall  we  think 
of  that  forgiveness  of  our  sins  for  which 
we  pray?  It,  too,  is  waiting  for  us, — wait- 
ing with  the  infinite  pathos  with  which  a 
parent  waits  for  his  sinning  child,  knock- 
ing at  our  door,  if  we  will  but  let  it  in. 
There  is  nothing  complicated  or  mechan- 
ical or  unnatural  about  the  forgiveness  of 
sins.  There  is  only  one  thing  that  for- 
bids it.  It  is  the  locked  door  of  our  own 
hearts. 

See,  then,  the  wonderful  simplicity  of 
religion.  Here,  on  the  one  hand,  are  our 
own  lives,  shut  in,  limited,  and  self-ab- 
sorbed ;  and  here,  on  the  other  hand,  are 
these  great  powers  of  the  universe,  want- 
ing to  get  in  to  us,  and  between  the  two 
only  one  barrier, —  the  barrier  of  our  own 
wills.  What  a  terrific  thought  it  is  that 
the  spirit  of  God  is  forever  thus  trying  to 
reach  us,  and  that  the  power  of  a  Chris- 
tian life  is  standing  like  a  weary  traveller 
knocking  at  our  door! 

God  grant  that  in  these  moments  of 

withdrawal, 


66 


withdrawal,  when  we  turn  from  the  stir 
of  our  busy  lives  to  the  quietness  of  this 
place,  there  may  be  a  little  of  this  opening 
of  the  doors  of  our  wills  to  these  heavenly 
visitants  !  It  is  not  a  work  that  makes 
a  noise  or  sensation,  —  this  unbarring  of 
one's  life.  It  is  not  a  work  that  one  man 
can  do  for  another,  or  that  can  be  preached 
or  forced  into  a  life.  No  power  —  not  that 
of  God  Himself  —  can  open  that  door  from 
the  outside.  Only  the  soul  itself  can  open 
itself.  But  if,  with  perfect  simplicity  and 
unaffectedness,  any  one  of  us  is  able  just 
to  put  aside  the  bolt  of  his  own  wilfulness, 
and  open  his  door  and  say:  "Almighty 
God,  come  into  me!  Spirit  of  Christ,  be 
thou  my  guest  !  Father,  I  have  sinned, 
forgive  me,"  —  then  it  is  as  if  these 
sharper  days  of  winter  were  melting  into 
the  approaching  spring,  and  as  if  one  of 
us  came  down  some  morning  in  his  heated 
house,  and  should  throw  his  door  open  to 
the  gentler  air,  and  there  should  flow  in 
upon  him  the  milder  freshness  and  the 
purer  fragrance  of  a  renewing  and  reviv- 
ing world. 


IX. 

THE    CHRISTIAN    COMMONWEALTH. 
ROM.  xii.  3-9. 

I  SPOKE  yesterday  of  Paul's  practical 
way  of  putting  Christian  duty.  I 
want  now  to  remind  this  congregation  of 
the  way  in  which  Paul  always  chooses 
to  speak  to  us  as  members  of  the  great 
body,  as  linked  together  as  brothers  and 
sisters  in  the  world.  He  never  chooses 
to  speak  to  any  man  as  if  any  man  could 
be  alone.  We  bear  each  other's  burdens, 
and  so  fulfil  the  law  of  Christ. 

The  human  race  is  the  individual,  of 
which  men  and  women  are  the  separate 
organs  and  members.  That  is  the  way 
Fichte  put  it  eighteen  hundred  years 
after  Paul  had  said  the  same  thing,  and 
one  may  say  that  it  was  because  Fichte 
felt  and  knew  this  that  he  got  that  hold 
on  the  German  nation  which  led  it  so  fast 
and  so  far.  In  this  way,  I  mean,  he  got 

hold 


68 

hold  of  student  life,  and  showed  to  those 
young  men  that  they  were  not  at  work 
for  themselves,  but  that  they  must  touch 
elbows  and  work  in  and  for  the  great 
company  of  mankind.  There  are  other 
prophets  and  other  poets,  who  will  tell 
you  to  eat  out  your  own  heart,  to  look  in 
upon  your  own  soul,  and  to  take  care 
of  yourself  alone,  as  if  there  could  be  a 
lonely  Christian.  But  it  is  not  Paul  that 
says  that.  He  is  always  speaking  for  the 
company, — for  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  as 
he  calls  it, — for  you  and  me  as  belonging 
to  that  company,  and  so  working  for  that 
kingdom. 

I  once  heard  Dr.  Furness  say  that  he 
knew  no  distinguished  author  writing  on 
the  Christian  life  and  work,  who,  if  he  were 
brought  up  under  an  absolute  monarchy, 
ever  could  express  or  ever  could  under- 
stand what  Jesus  Christ  meant  by  the 
kingdom  of  God.  A  man  who  is  brought 
up  under  the  absolute  monarchies  of  the 
Old  World  is  constantly  thinking  of  this 
great  commander,  of  the  field-marshal  who 
commands  the  lieutenant-general,  of  the 
major-general  who  commands  the  briga- 
dier-general, and  so  on  all  the  way  down ; 

but 


Cljritfttan  Commontoealttj,    69 

but  the  Christian  idea  is  that  of  a  Chris- 
tian Commonwealth.  It  is  stated  so  dis- 
tinctly in  Paul's  address,  when  he  spoke 
of  all  conditions  of  men  as  being  of  one 
blood.  We  are  all  of  one  blood,  with 
that  great  primogeniture,  in  which  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  first-born  of  our  inheritance, 
and  the  first  brother  of  our  family;  and  we 
are  all  members  of  one  family,  of  which 
God  is  the  single  head.  What  Paul  pleads 
for  and  urges  is  that  you  and  I  shall  take 
hold  in  that  family;  that  we  shall  do  some- 
thing for  its  good,  its  behoof ;  that  we 
shall  count  ourselves  as  of  one  birth  and 
one  blood. 

I  am  speaking  to  many  gentlemen  who 
must  determine  before  many  months  are 
over  in  what  way  they  shall  teach  the 
world,  in  what  profession  they  will  work, 
what  career  they  will  seek  for  themselves, 
how  they  will  try  to  live  for  their  fellow- 
men.  I  have  read  here  the  passage  in 
which  Paul  refers  to  the  celebrated  epi- 
sode in  Roman  history,  when  Menenius 
Agrippa  met  the  great  secession  of  the 
ptebs,  which  we  should  call  their  great 
strike.  Agrippa  told  them  the  story  of 
the  belly  and  the  members, — that  each 

member 


70 

member  is  necessary  to  each ;   and    Paul 
repeats  that  lesson. 

And  this  is  Paul's  statement  all  along, 
of  what  this  Christian  Church  should  be 
into  which  you  and  I  are  born.  We  are 
born  Christians,  thank  God ;  and  we  must 
enter  into  this  service,  a  common  service 
with  each  other.  It  is  for  any  man,  in 
choosing  his  vocation,  to  recall  this  and 
ask  how  he  is  to  be  of  service  to  other 
men.  It  is  impossible  to  maintain  his  alle- 
giance to  God,  and  go  into  any  calling  in 
which  he  would  not  be  of  service  to  others. 
And  if  any  man  were  to  come  to  me,  and 
ask  for  the  advice  which  after  forty  years 
of  life  I  could  give  to  him,  I  should  bid 
him  find  some  way  in  which  the  education 
he  has  here  received  shall  be  of  use  to 
those  around  him.  He  is  the  interpreter 
of  the  wisdom,  the  knowledge,  the  train- 
ing of  the  past  to  those  who  have  not 
been  so  fortunate  as  we  are  here.  He 
has  spent  four  years  here,  to  give  to  these 
men  and  women  around  him  the  benefit 
of  this  past,  which  has  been  speaking  to 
us  all  through  all  the  ages.  And  that 
lesson  is  taught  all  through  the  New  Tes- 
tament. It  is  the  lesson  of  the  Church 

of 


Christian  Commontoealtfj,    71 

of  Christ.  Not  as  if  that  Church  were 
any  mechanical  organization,  into  which 
any  man  could  come  through  this  method 
or  that  method.  It  is  the  great  company 
of  the  sons  of  the  living  God,  in  which 
each  one  must  do  his  part.  Be  it  for  the 
teaching,  the  amusement,  or  the  service 
of  others,  we  must  wait  on  our  teaching, 
wait  on  our  ministry,  wait  on  our  prophe- 
sying. We  are  false  to  the  relations  of 
children  of  God,  we  are  false  to  what  the 
past  has  done  for  us,  if  we  do  not  find 
our  place  in  carrying  such  lessons  and 
such  love  to  those  around  us  and  to  the 
future. 


THE  TEMPTATION   OF  JESUS. 
MATT.  iv.  i-n. 

THERE  is  hardly  anything  more  inter- 
esting, more  delightful,  I  think,  in 
all  the  Gospels,  than  the  air  of  exuberant 
and  exultant  youth  that  fills  them.  There 
is  no  touch  of  old  age  upon  them  any- 
where. The  old  men  of  the  Gospels  — 
the  Zachariahs  and  the  Simeons  —  stand 
in  the  background  of  the  abundant  and 
overwhelming  youth  and  life  that  are  in 
the  stories  from  the  beginning  to  the  end. 
The  young  Christ  stands  surrounded  by 
a  circle  of  his  young  apostles,  and  in  the 
power  and  life  of  these  young  men  lies 
the  conversion  of  the  world.  It  is  won- 
derful to  see  how  this  spirit  of  youth  goes 
everywhere,  so  that  everything  is  of  the 
sunrise  and  of  the  morning.  Everything 
is  looking  forward,  anticipating  new  life 
in  the  world.  The  very  death  in  which 

the 


temptation  of  3fle$u$.      73 

the  Gospel  closes  is  the  birth  of  a.  new 
life. 

So,  in  the  passage  I  read,  the  tempta- 
tion of  our  Lord  is  temptation  as  it  comes 
in  the  strength  of  youth,  as  it  comes  in 
the  exuberance  and  fulness  of  the  life  of 
this  young  man  as  he  goes  into  the  desert. 
It  is  not  the  stripping  down  of  life :  it  is 
the  stocking  of  life  for  that  which  it  has 
to  do.  It  lies  in  the  very  way  in  which 
the  beginning  of  the  temptation  of  Jesus 
is  told  :  "  Then  was  Jesus  led  up  of  tJie 
spirit  into  the  wilderness,  to  be  tempted 
of  the  devil," — that  spirit  which  carried 
forth  his  life  and  inspired  it  for  the  work 
which  it  had  to  do.  It  was  by  that  spirit 
that  he  was  led  into  the  mountain  of 
temptation,  as  into  the  mountain  of  trans- 
figuration, or  the  mountain  of  the  sermon, 
or  the  mountain  of  prayer.  Thus,  in  the 
life  of  Jesus,  the  temptation  that  is  re- 
vealed becomes  a  true  part  of  the  man's 
life.  It  becomes  a  true  portion  of  the 
development  of  his  consciousness  for  the 
preparation  and  fulfilment  of  his  work. 

Yet  it  is  not  at  the  same  time  true  that 
temptation  is  the  same  for  every  man. 
The  temptation  of  Jesus  has  something 

in 


74 

in  common  with  our  own  life.  It  makes 
him  our  brother  in  that  life  ;  and  yet  how 
high  it  stands  above  the  temptations  which 
we  have !  There  is  no  temptation  from 
the  senses,  from  the  lower  life,  or  toward 
the  indulgence  which  seeks  a  lower  grati- 
fication. It  is  in  the  higher  portions  of 
his  life  that  Jesus  meets  with  the  power 
which  tempts  him,  and  by  resisting  which 
he  grows  into  his  strength.  Every  man's 
temptation  is  in  proportion  to  his  nature. 

"  If  thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  command 
that  these  stones  be  made  into  bread," — 
an  appeal  to  the  growing  God-conscious- 
ness that  was  in  Jesus,  an  appeal  to  the 
divine  potency  that  was  in  him  to  do  great 
things  in  his  work  in  this  world. 

Then  the  second  temptation,  "  If  thou 
be  the  Son  of  God,  cast  thyself  down ;  for 
it  is  written,  He  shall  give  his  angels 
charge  over  thee," — an  appeal  to  the  son- 
consciousness  of  Jesus.  If  you  are  really 
the  Son  of  God,  why  do  you  not  use  that 
sonship  so  that  even  no  exposure  can  be- 
come dangerous  or  harmful  to  you  ?  Why 
do  you  not  use  it  for  your  comfort  and 
self-satisfaction  ? 

And  then  the  last  and  the  greatest  of 

the 


3Demptatton  of  2f|e*u&      75 


the  temptations,  "All  these  things  will 
I  give  thee,"  —  as  he  stands  upon  the 
mountain  and  looks  forth  upon  the  world, 
—  "All  these  things  will  I  give  thee,  if 
thou  wilt  fall  down  and  worship  me." 
Thou  hast  come,  O  Christ,  for  the  re- 
demption of  the  world  ;  thou  hast  come 
to  save  this  world  from  its  sins,  to  make 
it  divine,  to  make  it  what  the  Father  de- 
signed it  to  be.  Thou  shalt  have  all  these 
things,  all  the  great  and  glorious  things 
that  thy  love  for  man  desires,  if  thou  wilt 
only  consent  to  attain  thy  purpose  by  wor- 
shipping me. 

Can  there  be  any  greater  temptations 
than  these  ?  Can  they  come  to  any  but 
a  noble  nature  ?  When  to  the  conscious- 
ness of  association  and  affiliation  with 
God,  when  to  the  great  desires  and  pur- 
poses which  glow  in  a  generous  young 
man's  heart,  the  devil  comes  and  makes 
this  appeal,  it  is  at  once  a  tribute  to  the 
nobleness  of  the  nature  of  him  whom  he 
tempts.  And  the  glory  of  Christ's  resist- 
ance is  that  he  appeals  from  the  tempta- 
tions which  assail  the  higher  parts  of  his 
nature  to  the  God  supporting  and  sustain- 
ing that  nature  :  he  appeals  from  the 

temptation 


76 

temptation  to  tempt  God  to  the  greater 
power  that  is  in  him  to  trust  God.  He 
does  not  go  down  from  the  heights  of  his 
nature,  that  he  may  be  able  to  escape 
from  this  temptation :  he  goes  on  to  a 
deeper  trust  and  more  entire  reliance,  a 
higher  fulfilment  of  the  life  that  is  in 
him. 

So  what  does  he  bring  forth  out  of  his 
temptation  ?  and  what  are  we  to  bring 
forth  from  our  temptations,  in  whatever 
region  of  life  we  may  be  ?  These  same 
things  that  Jesus  brought  forth,  and  which 
seem  to  show  how  much  of  that  which 
was  great  in  him  during  his  youth  had 
come  to  its  fulness  and  consummation 
there.  He  came  forth  certainly  with 
these  three  things  in  him  from  that  time 
forward, —  these  three  things,  which  may 
we  not  see  ourselves  in  him  to-day,  in 
virtue  of  that  temptation  which  he  con- 
quered ?  He  came  down  with  a  certain 
confidence  in  God,  with  a  certain  confi- 
dence in  the  power  which  had  held  him 
when  he  was  tempted.  He  came  down 
with  a  consciousness  of  himself  and  of  the 
mission  to  which  he  was  sent.  He  came 
down  with  a  sympathy  for  those  who,  in 

any 


temptation  of  3fle$u$*      77 

any  part  of  their  nature,  may  be  tempted. 
What  great  things  are  these  !  What  great 
things  are  these  shining  in  the  face  of 
Jesus  as  he  comes  down !  What  great 
things  are  these  in  the  life  of  any  man 
who  has  met  a  temptation  as  Christ  met 
his,  and  has  conquered  it !  the  conscious- 
ness of  God,  the  consciousness  of  our- 
selves and  our  mission,  and  the  most 
tender  sympathy  of  our  brother  in  the 
temptations  he  has  to  meet.  I  know 
nothing  that  a  man  has  to  encounter 
which  will  need  anything  more  than  the 
calling  forth  into  fuller  life  of  those 
things  which  Jesus  gained  in  this  great 
victory. 

God  help  you,  brother,  then  to  do  some- 
thing more  than  to  resist  your  tempta- 
tions. God  help  you  to  do  something 
more  than  simply  to  come  down  as  if  you 
had  resisted  an  enemy.  God  help  you 
to  come  forth,  not  merely  strong,  but 
stronger ;  not  merely  having  kept  the 
strength  you  have,  but  having  been  filled 
with  a  new  and  inspiring  strength  which 
subsists  in  these  three  great  things  which 
have  taken  possession  of  your  soul, — your 
consciousness  that  God  is  over  you,  that 

the 


78 

the  power  of  God  is  in  you,  and  that 
every  one  led  into  temptation  is  the  child 
of  God. 

Was  Christ  tempted  again  ?  He  cer- 
tainly was ;  but  I  am  sure  the  power  gained 
in  this  temptation  comes  up  in  all  the  other 
trials.  Never  can  we  forget  that  trial,  or 
be  too  grateful  for  it.  Never  can  it  cease 
to  be  a  help  to  his  children,  who  feel  the 
weakness  of  their  lives,  and  yet  need  to 
know  that  in  the  weakness  of  their  lives 
may  lie  the  deepest  strength  of  their  lives, 
if  they  have  the  strength  of  God.  "  Father, 
save  me  from  this  hour,"  he  said  in  his 
later  trial.  It  stood  awful  and  terrible  be- 
fore him;  and  he  shrank  back  from  it,  and 
it  might  seem  as  if  he  were  not  going  to 
do  the  things  that  he  came  for.  "Father, 
save  me  from  this  hour."  And  then  there 
rises  up  the  great  fulness  of  his  divine 
consciousness, —  "  Father,  save  me  from 
this  hour;  but  for  this  cause  came  I  unto 
this  hour."  What  is  man  made  for,  except 
that  he  shall  meet  the  suffering  of  his  life 
in  the  fulfilment  of  the  purposes  of  his 
life?  Can  it  be  that  I  have  walked  thus 
far,  and  shall  not  be  able  to  complete  that 
for  which  so  much  has  been  done?  Then 

the 


SDemptation  of  31e$u0.       79 

the  hands  are  dropped  even  from  petition, 
and  then  the  one  great  wish  fills  his  soul : 
"Father,  glorify  thy  name." 

My  friends,  I  cannot  help  connecting 
the  two.  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  the 
mountain,  and  then  of  the  strength  that 
came  out  of  the  mountain,  and  then  of  the 
strength  that  came  at  the  last,  and  made 
him  ready  for  the  cross.  God  grant  that 
you  may  so  conquer  your  temptations  by 
the  power  of  God,  that  they  may  not  leave 
you  as  you  were,  but  fill  you  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  God,  with  the  consciousness 
of  yourself,  and  with  deep  sympathy  with 
your  brothers,  so  that,  when  any  great 
sacred  trial  shall  come  to  you,  his  influ- 
ence and  his  strength  that  are  in  you  now 
may  be  in  you  then ;  and  everything  shall 
unfold  itself  in  the  great  prayer,  "Father, 
glorify  thy  name." 

It  was  only  a  few  days  after  that  Jesus 
offered  the  prayer  in  the  seventeenth  chap- 
ter of  John.  And  then  there  came  up  the 
thought  of  the  object  of  his  life  in  the 
world,  and  the  way  in  which  that  life  had 
been  fulfilled;  and  Jesus  could  say,  "I 
have  glorified  thee  on  the  earth,  I  have 
finished  the  work  which  thou  gavest  me 

to 


8o 


to  do."  Of  all  the  satisfactions  thac  men 
have,  is  there  anything  greater  than  this  ? 
I  have  made  my  contribution  to  the  pur- 
poses which  God  had  in  me;  I  have  ful- 
filled the  purposes  of  him  who  sent  me 
into  the  world.  It  has  been  gradually 
growing  clearer  and  clearer  to  me.  Much 
I  did  not  know,  as  I  followed  back  my 
tasks  unto  him  who  gave  them  to  me. 
Much  I  cannot  understand,  I  do  not  know. 
I  only  know  that  I  have  done  my  part: 
"I  have  glorified  thee  upon  the  earth,  and 
finished  the  work  thou  gavest  me  to  do." 
When  a  great  man  dies,  a  man  whose  life 
is  to  make  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world,  or  when  a  man  dies 
whose  name  is  to  be  forgotten  with  the 
dropping  of  the  sods  upon  his  grave,  it 
matters  not,  if  he  can  say,  I  have  glorified 
him,  the  great  Master  of  all  the  plans  and 
purposes  of  the  world  ;  I  have  glorified 
him  upon  the  earth,  and  finished  the  work 
he  gave  me  to  do.  Then  whatever  glory 
we  can  render  to  him  in  any  fuller  life, 
whatever  work  he  shall  give  us  to  do  here- 
after, whatever  joy  we  shall  be  called  upon 
to  enter  in  virtue  of  the  fulfilment  of  the 
little  work  he  has  given  us  here,  becomes 

possible  ; 


temptation  of  31e$u0.      81 

possible;  and  the  eyes  that  close  upon 
good  work,  humbly  finished  in  the  fear 
of  God,  open  upon  the  untold  tasks  and 
the  infinite  growths  of  the  eternal  life. 
From  the  temptation  when  the  youth's 
soul  struggled  in  that  conflict  with  the 
great  power  that  was  besieging  him  on  to 
the  time  when  he  gave  his  life  into  the 
hands  of  his  Father,  it  was  but  one  and 
the  same  Christ  who  was  to  finish  the 
work  which  God  had  sent  him  to  do  in 
the  world.  God  grant  that  we  may  echo 
the  same  power  that  worked  in  Christ  in 
the  sphere  in  which  we  are  sent ! 


XL 

IRREMEDIABLE   LOSS   IN   SIN. 
HEB.  xii.  16,  17. 

YOU  must  all  remember  the  story  in 
the  Old  Testament  to  which  these 
verses  refer.  Esau,  the  wild  hunter,  has 
returned  from  the  chase,  weary,  exhausted, 
hungry.  To  satisfy  his  hunger,  he  sells  to 
his  brother  his  birthright  for  a  mess  of 
pottage.  Afterward,  when  he  wanted  to 
undo  the  consequences  of  that  rash  act,  he 
could  not.  He  found  that  he  had  done 
something  that  was  irreparable ;  that  he 
had  set  in  motion  consequences  which,  in 
spite  of  all  that  he  could  do,  would  exer- 
cise their  influence  upon  his  life. 

This  simple  story  calls  our  attention 
to  the  irremediable  element  in  all  sin. 
There  is  loss,  irreparable  loss,  of  man- 
hood in  every  wrong  act  that  we  do,  in 
every  wrong  thought  we  cherish,  in  every 
inward  dishonesty  and  disloyalty.  There 

is 


3f|n:emelHable  JLostf  in  £>m»       83 

is  something  that  repentance  cannot  do. 
It  cannot  undo  the  past;  it  cannot  blot 
out  our  record,  it  cannot  change  it  in  the 
least.  If  a  young  man  has  squandered  the 
fortune  left  him,  he  may  regret  it  in  after 
life ;  and  that  regret  may  be  in  itself  and 
in  no  other  respects  a  very  good  thing, 
but  it  cannot  recover  his  lost  fortune. 
He  may  have  gone  into  athletics  beyond 
his  power  of  endurance,  he  may  have 
broken  his  constitution  and  lost  his 
health,  persisting  against  warning  after 
warning  from  his  overtaxed  body.  In  after 
life,  he  may  regret  it  very  much ;  but  his 
sorrow  will  not  redeem  his  lost  physical 
vigor.  Or  he  may  go  through  the  four 
precious  years  of  his  college  life  without 
securing  the  disciplined  mind  and  wide  in- 
formation which  these  may  furnish  ;  and 
when  he  is  in  the  stress  and  strain  of  pub- 
lic life,  fighting  in  the  broad  arena  of  busi- 
ness or  in  some  profession,  he  may  be  very 
sorry  that  he  did  not  use  his  advantages 
in  college.  But,  again,  the  sorrow,  how- 
ever much  good  it  may  do  in  some  re- 
spects, cannot  bring  back  that  lost  oppor- 
tunity, cannot  restore  to  him  what  he  has 
thrown  away. 

So 


84 

So  it  is  in  higher  things.  We  read  that 
Paul  persecuted  the  Christians  with  blind 
zeal.  We  read  afterward  that  he  repented 
of  it ;  but  his  repentance  could  never 
change  the  fact  that  he  had  persecuted 
the  lowly  followers  of  Jesus,  that  he  had 
identified  God's  service  with  inhuman 
practices,  that  he  had  wasted  his  power 
in  early  manhood.  That  record  was  un- 
changed to  his  dying  day.  We  read  of 
the  publican,  Zaccheus,  who  afterward  re- 
pented in  Christ's  presence  of  his  unjust 
exactions,  and  his  life  as  an  extortioner. 
His  repentance  wrought  out  great  results 
for  him ;  but  it  never  changed  his  record 
as  an  extortioner, —  that  he  always  had  to 
face.  The  years  that  he  had  squandered 
in  his  unjust  practices  were  forever  with- 
out redemption  for  him.  And  so  there 
was  one  thing  which  the  penitence  of  the 
penitent  thief  could  not  do  for  him.  It 
could  not  recover  for  him  his  lost  life  on 
earth,  it  could  not  make  him  out  other 
than  a  thief. 

There  is,  therefore,  this  irremediable  ele- 
ment in  all  sin.  There  is  an  irreparable 
loss  to  us.  All  our  dishonesties,  all  our 
disloyalties,  all  our  impurities  of  thought, 

all 


3|rwnrDiable  ILostf  in  £>m*       85 

all  our  insincerities, —  all  that  is  bad  with- 
in and  baleful  without  grows  into  a  fixed 
and  unalterable  record,  and  goes  on  for 
a  long  time  wielding  its  baleful  power 
over  the  agents  that  set  it  in  motion,  and 
over  the  agents  that  are  associated  with 
it  in  the  corporate  life  of  society.  It  is  a 
terrible  thing,  but  it  is  our  wisdom  to  face 
the  fact  as  it  is.  There  is  something  that 
repentance  cannot  do.  There  is  some- 
thing that  it  could  not  do  for  Paul  or  Zac- 
cheus  or  the  penitent  thief.  There  is 
something  that  it  cannot  do  for  you  or 
me :  it  cannot  alter  our  disloyal  record, 
our  past  as  sinful  men. 

Now,  then,  what  can  it  do  ?  It  seems 
to  me  that  a  man  who  has  opened  his  eyes 
to  this  fact  has  come  face  to  face  with  the 
reality  of  things,  and  this  very  fact  may 
set  in  motion  in  his  heart  the  emancipat- 
ing power  of  God.  If  he  sees  that  the 
past  of  sin  is  permanent  as  a  record,  that 
it  goes  on  for  a  long  time  exercising  its 
influence  upon  him,  he  will  come  to  a  bet- 
ter sense  of  the  sinfulness  of  the  act  and 
of  his  own  folly  in  identifying  his  good 
with  any  such  action  ;  and  this  sense  of 
his  terrible  act  and  of  his  folly  in  doing  it 

will 


86 


will  generate  a  repugnance  to  it  which  is 
the  very  power  of  God  in  emancipating 
the  soul  from  its  record  and  its  habit. 
When  Esau  came  to  look  upon  his  rash 
act,  when  he  thought  that  he  could  not 
undo  it  by  turning  his  past  over  and  shed- 
ding a  few  tears  in  his  father's  presence, 
then  the  result  of  his  impetuosity  became 
more  serious,  and  led  him  to  think  more 
deeply  of  all  such  acts,  which,  though  in- 
advertently done,  are  fixed,  and  send  their 
influence  over  the  whole  of  a  man's  life  in 
this  world.  Would  he  not  also  feel  more 
and  more  his  own  folly  in  identifying  the 
good  of  his  rational  spirit  with  the  satis- 
faction of  appetite  ?  And  would  not  this 
sentiment,  the  very  fact  that  the  past  was 
persistent,  that  it  had  rained  down  its 
judgment  upon  him,  —  would  not  that  fact 
generate  a  new  power  of  self-protection, 
vigilance,  and  freedom  ? 

Much  more  with  Paul.  We  know  that 
the  recoil  of  his  soul  from  the  past,  the 
recoil  of  his  soul  from  his  guilt  and  folly, 
was  the  power  of  God  that  developed  in 
his  heart  all  his  zeal  and  effectiveness  as 
an  apostle  of  Christ.  We  know  that  it 
was  this  same  recoil  from  a  fixed,  abhor- 

rent 


in  £>m.       87 

rent  past  which  made  Zaccheus  say,  "  The 
half  of  my  goods  I  give  to  the  poor ;  and, 
if  I  have  taken  anything  from  any  man  by 
false  accusation,  I  restore  it  fourfold."  He 
allowed  his  whole  past  to  excite  in  him  a 
proper  thought  and  a  proper  emotion,  and 
these  brought  into  his  heart  the  deliver- 
ing power  of  God. 

So  with  the  penitent  thief.  That  mar- 
vellously tender  and  trustful  appeal  of  his 
to  Christ,  just  as  they  were  both  going 
down  into  the  darkness  of  death,  "  Lord, 
remember  me  when  thoti  comest  into  thy 
kingdom," —  this  appeal  was  excited  in  the 
poor  man's  soul  by  the  view  of  his  past 
life  as  a  fixed  and  shameful  record,  and  by 
the  sense  of  his  own  folly  in  having  iden- 
tified his  good  with  such  a  course  of  life. 
Peter  went  out  from  the  presence  of  the 
Lord,  and  wept  bitterly ;  but  his  tears 
could  not  wash  out  his  denial.  That  re- 
mains fixed  as  a  part  of  Christian  history 
for  all  time.  But  the  recoil  of  Peter's 
soul  from  the  base  act  he  had  done,  his 
sense  of  grief  and  folly  in  having  taken 
that  for  his  good, —  that  sent  him  on.  He 
attained  new  freedom, —  the  freedom  of  a 
son  of  God. 

Carry 


88 

Carry  a  tame  pigeon  a  hundred  miles, 
and  set  it  free,  and  its  instinct  of  strange- 
ness, its  instinct  for  home,  its  fear  and  its 
love,  are  the  double  impulse  in  its  wings 
to  send  it  home.  When  the  boy  in  the 
parable  of  our  Lord  found  himself  in  a 
strange  country,  the  feeling  of  strange- 
ness and  the  feeling  of  home,  the  instinct 
of  fear  and  the  instinct  of  love, —  these 
were  the  wings  that  carried  him  out  of  the 
far  country  to  his  old  home. 

And  so  it  is  with  us.  If  we  face  our 
bad  acts  and  our  bad  deeds  as  permanent 
things, —  things  that  no  tears  can  wash 
out,  no  repentance  can  undo,  nothing  can 
change  from  what  they  are, —  there  will 
be  a  recoil  in  us  from  that  past,  there  will 
be  a  sense  of  guilt  in  us,  and  a  sense  of 
folly  in  us,  for  having  identified  the  eter- 
nal good  of  the  human  spirit  with  such 
gratifications.  And  the  recoil  will  be  the 
power*  of  the  Eternal  Spirit  delivering  us 
from  our  past  and  from  our  habit  into  the 
future  which  God  has  willed  for  us,  and 
into  the  habit  that  Christ  wears,  and  which 
we  may  share. 


XII. 

"MY    FATHER'S    BUSINESS." 
LUKE  ii. 

THIS  was  the  first  visit  of  this  child 
to  Jerusalem  since  he  was  carried 
there  in  his  infancy.  When  the  company 
that  had  brought  him  now  to  this  city  and 
temple  of  his  delight,  and  his  parents  had 
turned  toward  their  home,  he  lingered 
behind,  as  we  have  read ;  and  when  they 
found  him,  in  the  temple  where  they 
looked  for  him,  he  turned  to  them  his  sur- 
prised and  grieved  face,  and  asked:  "How 
is  it  that  you  sought  me  ?  Did  you  not 
know  that  I  must  be  in  my  Father's  house, 
that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  busi- 
ness?" Twelve  years  old!  But  he  knew 
that  God  was  his  Father,  which  scarcely  an- 
other man  in  Jerusalem  knew.  He  knew 
that  the  temple  was  his  Father's  house. 
He  knew  that  all  that  was  before  him  in 
his  dawning  life  was  simply  his  Father's 

business. 


90 

business.  What  a  wonderful  beginning  for 
a  life  as  wonderful !  And,  when  we  find 
him  in  the  midst  of  it,  he  is  uttering  the 
same  thought :  "  My  meat  is  to  do  the  will 
of  Him  that  sent  me,  and  to  finish  his 
work."  And  at  the  close  :  "  I  have  glori- 
fied thee  on  the  earth  :  I  have  finished  the 
work  which  thou  gavest  me  to  do."  From 
the  beginning  to  the  end,  it  was  "my 
Father's  business." 

But,  with  this  devotion  to  his  heavenly 
Father's  will,  there  was  the  most  perfect 
fidelity  to  his  human  duties.  We  read 
that  he  went  back  to  Nazareth  with  his 
parents,  and  was  subject  to  them  as  afore- 
time. If  traditions  are  to  be  trusted,  he 
went  into  the  shop  of  his  father,  and 
worked  at  his  humble,  useful  occupation. 
And  we  may  well  believe  that  no  work 
which  was  not  perfect  went  from  that  car- 
penter's shop. 

When  he  went  out  into  the  world, 
helping,  inspiring,  strengthening,  relieving 
every  one,  and  being  always  a  shepherd, 
and,  like  a  good  shepherd,  giving  at  last 
his  life  for  the  sheep,  he  was  still  teaching 
that  God  is  our  Father,  that  the  solitary 
thing  which  any  man  has  to  do  in  this 
wide  world  is  his  Father's  business. 

Have 


.ffatiier'sf  Business,"        91 

Have  we  not  to  learn  the  same  lesson  ? 
We  stand  in  this  double  relationship, — 
first  to  God  over  us,  and  then  to  the  world 
that  is  about  us.  But  we  are  to  hold  these 
two  together  in  one  thought  and  one  in- 
tention. If  we  take  the  first  by  itself,  our 
thought  becomes  a  meditation,  an  emotion. 
We  become  monks ;  we  build  monasteries ; 
we  tread  cloisters.  If  we  take  the  other, 
life  becomes  narrow,  restricted,  one-sided, 
of  the  earth,  earthy.  There  is  no  help 
but  binding  together  and  never  separating 
the  two  which  God  in  wisdom  and  grace 
has  united. 

If  now  we  remember  our  Lord's  pre- 
cepts, we  find  the  same  lesson,  that  the 
second  commandment  is  like  the  first. 
But  the  first  is  the  first,  and  the  first  is 
the  greatest.  The  world  must  have  both. 
If  we  take  the  second  alone,  life  goes 
down,  and  is  restricted  because  it  is  not 
living  up  to  the  greatest.  If  we  look 
down,  then  our  shoulders  stoop.  If  our 
thoughts  look  down,  our  character  bends. 
It  is  only  when  we  hold  our  heads  up  that 
the  body  becomes  erect.  It  is  only  when 
our  thoughts  go  up  that  our  life  becomes 
erect. 

We 


92  J?art)aru 

We  have  another  successful,  forcible 
illustration  of  this  in  a  man  whose  life  has 
impressed  men  more  deeply,  perhaps,  than 
any  other  which  has  been  lived  since  his 
time, —  Saint  Paul.  We  think  of  him,  as 
we  do  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  doing  his  Father's 
will.  Paul  was  a  tent-maker.  If  he  had 
given  himself  up  to  tent-making  alone,  he 
might  have  been  a  skilled  and  successful 
and  wealthy  tent-maker.  But  then  his  char- 
acter would  have  taken  something  of  the 
shape  and  texture  of  the  tent.  A  man's 
occupation  does  enter  into  a  man's  life,  as 
truly  as  a  man's  life  enters  into  his  occu- 
pation. But  when  he  gave  himself  to  this 
higher  purpose,  then  this  common  work, 
this  tent-making,  became  illustrious,  sacred. 
It  wrought  in  everything  he  did.  I  sup- 
pose there  is  no  one  who  knows  the  life  of 
Saint  Paul  who  does  not  believe  that  the 
trademark  with  his  name  upon  a  piece  of 
black  tent-cloth  in  the  market  of  Corinth 
was  a  positive  addition  to  its  value.  And 
I  am  sure  he  was  a  better  preacher  for 
this  work.  As  he  himself  said  again 
and  again :  "  These  hands  have  ministered 
unto  my  necessities."  "  I  have  wrought 
with  labor,  .  .  .  that  we  might  not  be 

chargeable 


jfartjer'0  JBtutfnwfc."       93 

chargeable  to  any  of  you."  He  asked  no 
favors  from  any  one.  He  cared  for  him- 
self, and  took  care  of  those  with  him.  In 
this  independence,  he  did  the  work  of  his 
ministry.  When  he  was  in  the  house  of 
Aquila  and  Priscilla  at  Corinth,  because 
he  was  of  the  same  craft  he  abode  with 
them,  making  this  tent-cloth,  in  order  that 
he  might  preach.  He  could  say  that  he 
preached  because  he  made  the  tent-cloth, 
the  two  working  together,  but  the  preaching 
being  first.  It  is  what  ranks  in  our  thoughts 
as  first  that  determines  the  character  which 
we  possess.  We  may  do  good  things  and 
inferior  things,  but  the  things  which  are 
first  in  our  purpose  determine  our  char- 
acter and  our  desert.  Some  one  said  to 
Casanova,  "  Rubens,  I  believe,  was  an 
ambassador  who  amused  himself  with 
painting."  "No,  madam,"  was  the  reply, 
"  Rubens  was  a  painter  who  amused  him- 
self with'  embassies."  The  first  would 
have  left  him  an  ambassador  long  ago  for- 
gotten. The  second  leaves  him  an  artist 
evermore  remembered. 

What,  then,  does  it  come  to  ?  What 
are  we  to  do  ? 

First  of  all,  are  we  not  every  morning 

to 


94  J?artoar& 

to  adjust  ourselves  to  God?  Are  we  not 
to  take  that  simple  principle  which  is  as 
true  in  morals  and  conduct  as  in  material 
things, —  that  the  greater  includes  the 
less  ?  The  greater  does  not  disown  it :  it 
holds  it.  The  less  does  not  supplant  the 
greater  :  it  rests  within  it.  It  is  when  we 
carry  out  this  principle  in  the  strength 
and  unity  of  our  conduct  that  we  have 
taken  a  very  safe  principle  by  which  to 
live.  Every  morning,  before  we  cross  our 
threshold,  before  we  make  a  single  plan  or 
appointment  for  the  day,  we  must  give 
ourselves  unto  our  Father's  business.  In 
looking  out  upon  life,  in  choosing  our  pro- 
fession, before  we  take  counsel  and  as  we 
take  counsel,  first  of  all  we  must  ask  why 
we  live  at  all,  then  give  ourselves  to  our 
Father's  business. 

We  are  not,  as  we  do  sometimes,  to  de- 
termine what  we  will  do,  and  then  devote, 
it  to  God ;  but  we  are  first  to  devote  our- 
selves to  God,  and  then  ask  him  what  we 
shall  do.  Give  life  to  him  in  the  large, 
and  let  him  arrange  the  details  afterward. 
The  ship  first  adjusts  herself  to  the  sun 
in  the  heavens ;  and,  having  done  that, 
the  ship  is  rightly  adjusted  to  every  star 

that 


jfatljer'0  Business*"        95 

that  gleams.  The  man  whose  heart  is 
right  with  God  is  wrong  with  nothing. 
The  man  whose  life  contents  God  has  ful- 
filled its  intent.  The  life  that  does  the 
will  of  God  does  everything  that  men 
ought  to  ask  and  everything  that  men 
require. 

What  shall  we  find,  then,  in  a  life  like 
that,  beginning  first  of  all  with  God,  as  at 
twelve  years  of  age  we  are  standing  in  the 
temple,  with  the  thought  of  him  upper- 
most in  our  minds  ?  Standing  in  our 
morning,  in  our  youth,  looking  down  upon 
life,  what  shall  we  find  ?  We  shall  find, 
in  a  life  like  that,  everything  that  we 
need,  every  power  recognized,  every  fac- 
ulty of  our  being  energized  to  do  its  best. 
There  is  nothing  beyond  it.  "  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart, 
and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy 
mind,  and  with  all  thy  strength :  this  is 
the  first  commandment.  And  the  second 
is  like  ;  namely,  this  :  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself."  That  is  what  God 
requires,  and  whosoever  shall  do  that  shall 
do  all  which  he  needs  to  do  to  be  all  which 
it  is  possible  for  him  to  be. 

We  shall  find,  again,  everything  that 

the 


96  J?artoaru 

the  world  neeas  at  our  hands.  No  one  is 
so  compassionate  toward  men  as  God. 
The  Father  is  tender  and  pitiful  to  his 
children.  There  is  no  one  overlooked. 
There  is  no  prayer  unnoticed.  The  whole 
thought  of  God  is  pity  and  mercy  and 
helpfulness  and  love  toward  all  men.  And 
when  a  man  is  doing  the  will  of  God,  is 
about  his  Father's  business,  he  is  express- 
ing the  love  of  God  and  carrying  it  down 
among  men. 

The  world  has  many  wants.  It  wants 
tents,  it  wants  goods  that  come  from 
the  carpenter's  shop ;  but  shall  we  be 
satisfied,  then,  to  be  only  tent-makers, 
carpenters,  scholars  ?  The  world  needs 
apostles.  A  man  may  be  a  better  apostle 
for  being  able  to  make  a  tent :  he  will 
only  be  a  good  tent-maker  when  he  is  an 
apostle. 

We  shall  find,  then,  an  incentive,  an 
inspiration,  the  very  nobility  of  our  career, 
when  we  are  working  with  God  and  feel- 
ing the  strength  of  that  divine  life  breathe 
itself  into  our  purposes  and  flow  along  the 
channels  of  our  life.  There  is  nothing 
like  it, —  nothing  like  this  constant  sense 
that  we  are  one  with  God,  in  communion 

with 


jfatljcr'sf  HBusrtnestf,"        97 

with  him,  listening  to  him,  obeying  him, 
and  going  out  to  do  his  will,  sure  that 
there  is  no  man  who  is  faithful  to  his 
Father's  business  but  shall  know  the  doc- 
trine and  shall  do  the  work. 

Thus,  also,  we  shall  find  the  unalterable 
purpose  of  God.  The  thoughts  of  God 
are  eternal  thoughts.  They  are  indepen- 
dent of  time,  independent  of  worlds.  You 
set  your  life  to-day  into  the  doing  of  the 
will  of  God.  After  you  have  set  your  life 
into  that  life,  it  need  never  be  changed. 
A  million  years  hence,  what  is  my  duty 
to-day  will  be  my  duty  still.  The  cen- 
turies that  are  before  us  will  never  change 
the  character  of  our  duty.  No  age  can 
ever  bring  anything  of  loss  to  that  man 
who  is  doing  the  will  of  our  Father  who  is 
in  heaven.  Let  changes  come ;  let  the 
carpenter's  shop  fall ;  let  men  cease  to 
need  tents ;  let  our  hands  lose  their  cun- 
ning to  make  them;  let  death  come, —  we 
pass  on,  still  thinking  God's  thoughts,  still 
doing  God's  business,  on,  on  forever,  up 
the  ages.  This  is  to  make  up  our  pur- 
poses, our  intentions,  our  conduct,  not 
after  the  law  of  a  carnal  commandment, 
but  after  the  power  of  an  endless  life. 

"The 


98 

"The  world  passeth  away,"  —  so  an  old 
man  wrote, —  "the  world  passeth  away: 
but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abideth 
forever." 


XIII. 

t 

JESUS   IN   EPHRAIM. 
JOHN  xi.  45. 

THERE  is  something  very  noteworthy 
in  this  simple  incident,  thus  slightly 
described  in  a  single  Gospel :  "  He  de- 
parted into  the  country  near  to  the  wil- 
derness, into  a  city  called  Ephraim."  For 
consider  when  it  was  that  this  apparently 
unimportant  event  occurred.  It  was  but 
a  week  or  two  before  the  last  events  of 
the  life  of  Jesus.  It  was  after  the  time 
when,  as  Jesus  said,  "he  had  steadfastly 
set  his  face  to  go  to  Jerusalem."  It  was, 
indeed,  probably  on  this  very  day,  the 
Thursday  before  what  we  call  Palm  Sun- 
day, that  Jesus  came  forth  from  this  re- 
tirement in  Ephraim,  and  joined  the  pil- 
grims on  their  way  to  Jerusalem.  He 
knew  what  was  to  follow.  There  was  no 
illusion  about  that  journey.  "Behold," 
he  said  to  his  disciples,  "  we  go  up  to  Je- 
rusalem ; 


100 

rusalem ;  and  the  Son  of  Man  shall  be 
delivered  and  mocked  and  scourged,  and 
put  to  death."  Thus  he  was  looking  on 
through  the  Sunday  of  welcome  and  enthu- 
siasm, when  the  multitude  would  spread 
their  garments  in  his  triumphant  way, 
through  the  week  of  quick  reaction  from 
enthusiasm  to  hostility,  through  the  be- 
trayal and  the  garden  and  the  trial  to  the 
swiftly  approaching  cross.  Just  then  it 
was,  when  this  consciousness  of  a  tre- 
mendous crisis  was  solemnizing  every  step, 
that  he  left  his  preaching  and  working, 
left  the  cities  and  the  contest  with  scribes 
and  Pharisees,  and  went  away  with  a  few 
of  his  friends  into  this  remote  place  called 
Ephraim,  and  there  remained  so  quietly 
that  his  withdrawal  has  been  hardly  re- 
membered by  the  Christian  Church,  until 
at  last,  as  he  would  have  said,  "  his  hour 
was  come  "  ;  and  on  precisely  this  day  of 
this  very  week  he  comes  back  into  the 
world  again. 

What  docs  this  mean, —  this  turning 
away  from  practical  work,  just  when  prac- 
tical opportunity  seemed  most  pressing 
and  brief?  Certainly,  this  inaction  at 
such  a  time  is  most  extraordinary.  Does 

it 


3f|mt*  in  Cpfjratm.  101 

it  mean  that  Jesus  was  indifferent  to  his 
work,  and  did  not  much  care  whether  he 
finished  it  or  not  ?  We  cannot  be  so  fool- 
ish as  to  say  that  of  him.  Or  does  it  mean 
that  he  was  afraid  of  what  was  coming, 
and  for  the  moment  fled  from  his  fate  ? 
We  have  yet  to  find  in  the  later  story  any- 
thing that  looks  like  fear.  On  the  con- 
trary, we  have  for  the  most  part  a  state  of 
mind  more  like  that  of  a  kingly  triumph, 
as  though  he,  rather  than  Herod,  were 
master  and  judge,  and  as  though  the 
crown  of  thorns  were  a  crown  of  laurels. 
No !  It  was  a  much  deeper  impulse  than 
indifference  or  fear  which  led  Jesus  thus 
into  this  withdrawal.  The  fact  was  that 
it  seemed  to  him  the  best  way  to  use  his 
time.  If  he  was  to  fulfil  his  mission  in 
the  calmness  and  self-possession  of  its 
last  tremendous  incidents,  it  must  be,  he 
knew,  through  strength  not  suddenly  de- 
veloped as  the  crisis  met  him,  but  stored 
up  for  the  crisis  in  antecedent  hours  of 
quiet  communion  with  his  God.  If  he 
was  to  pour  himself  out  so  wholly  in  word 
and  life,  it  must  be  from  a  fulness  not  to 
be  received  except  in  this  occasional  with- 
drawal into  the  close  and  quiet  sense  of 
companionship  with  God. 

This 


102 

This  seems  to  be  a  law  in  the  life  of 
Jesus.  Before  each  crisis  of  his  life,  he 
goes  away  from  the  work  which  seems  to 
demand  him,  to  the  wilderness,  or  the  sea- 
side, or  the  mountain,  or  the  garden.  It 
was  as  though  his  perpetual  and  contro- 
versial relations  with  men  left  him  solitary 
and  parched,  like  a  shore  left  by  the  re- 
ceding tide,  and  as  though  he  must  place 
himself  where  the  inflooding  and  uninter- 
rupted tide  of  the  spirit  of  his  God  could 
flow  in  upon  him  without  hindrance,  and 
fill  his  life  again.  In  his  work,  he  was 
alone,  though  he  seemed  to  be  in  the 
midst  of  companionship, —  alone  in  that 
profoundest  solitude,  when  one  is  misin- 
terpreted and  unheard;  and  in  these 
times  of  withdrawal  he  found  compan- 
ionship, though  he  seemed  to  be  alone. 
At  the  one  time,  he  spent  himself.  At 
the  other,  he  revived  himself.  Thus  it 
was  that,  with  those  only  who  were  near- 
est to  him,  he  went  apart  into  this  soli- 
tary place  called  Ephraim ;  and  thus  it 
was  that,  when  he  came  forth  from  this 
withdrawal  of  whose  incidents  we  know 
not  a  word,  he  comes  forth  with  an  abso- 
lute self-possession  and  tranquillity,  the 

real 


in  <fl;pl)ratm.  103 

real  crisis  of  his  life  lying  behind  him  in 
this  hidden  experience,  and  the  triumph 
of  Palm  Sunday,  along  with  the  tragedies 
which  succeeded  it,  only  the  incidents  of 
a  willingly  accepted  destiny. 

Let  us  notice,  first,  the  marvellous  self- 
control  which  all  this  implies.  To  pause 
just  when  action  seems  expected,  to  be 
wise  as  well  as  to  be  self-sacrificing,  to  be 
able  to  wait  until  one's  time  is  come, — 
that  is  the  hardest  thing  for  the  man  of 
a  strenuous  purpose  to  do.  The  reformer 
is,  by  his  very  calling,  impatient  of  delay. 
The  man  who  has  found  a  truth  feels  the 
very  power  of  truth  urging  him  to  imme- 
diate results.  "Now,"  he  says,  "is  the 
appointed  time.  Now  is  the  day  of  salva- 
tion." What  disturbs  him  most  is  delay. 
"  The  trouble  is,"  said  one  such  great  re- 
former, "that  God  is  not  in  a  hurry,  and  I 
am."  Think,  then,  on  the  other  hand,  of 
the  power  in  Jesus  to  wait,  to  let  his  pur- 
pose ripen,  nurtured  from  years  of  child- 
hood, like  a  plant  withholding  its  blossom 
until  at  last  it  blooms  once  and  dies,  paus- 
ing in  the  midst  of  work,  if  work  can  be 
made  better  by  a  pause.  Let  us  stand 
rebuked  for  our  restlessness  and  impa- 
tience, 


104 

tience,  our  hurry  for  success,  our  prefer- 
ence for  incomplete  results,  if  only  they 
shall  be  quick  results.  In  the  midst  of 
our  competitions  and  controversies  and 
hopes  and  fears,  who  of  us  permits  him- 
self any  time  spared  from  his  activities  to 
go  apart  into  any  quiet  Ephraim,  and  per- 
mit his  life  to  proceed  under  a  self-con- 
trolled and  far-reaching  plan  ? 

But  there  is  more  than  this  for  us  to 
notice.  There  is  that  which  I  have  called 
a  law  in  the  life  of  Jesus,  and  which  thus 
seemed  to  demand  these  alternations  of 
society  and  solitude,  of  reflection  and 
action,  of  receptivity  and  utterance,  as 
the  method  of  his  work.  What  is  the 
teaching  of  this  law  which  thus  led  Jesus 
away  from  what  seemed  his  duty  to  the 
quietness  of  Ephraim?  A  life,  it  says 
to  us,  lived  in  the  absorbing  occupations 
of  the  active  world  cannot  be  lived  wisely, 
unless  at  times  it  is  led  to  pause,  and  let 
the  whole  large  intent  of  life  lie  broadly 
before  it  in  one  quiet  view.  We  are  like 
artists  absorbed  in  working  out  some 
small  detail  of  our  task.  We  must  at 
times  stand  off  from  it,  and  look  at  it 
in  its  wholeness ;  and  it  is  only  when 

we 


in  (Kpljraim.  105 

we  thus  see  each  part  in  its  relation  to 
the  whole  that  we  see  the  parts  them- 
selves aright.  It  is  not  only  that  we  thus 
need  rest  in  life :  it  is  thus  that  we  get 
power  and  insight  for  life.  We  try  to 
sum  up  the  great  moments  of  our  expe- 
rience, and  we  seem  to  see  them  in  some 
conspicuous  incident  of  triumph  or  suc- 
cess. But,  in  reality,  that  which  gave 
such  incidents  their  worth  or  greatness  to 
us,  the  capacity  to  meet  and  use  them, 
was  not  the  immediate  gift  of  the  emer- 
gency, but  was  the  outcome  of  a  habit  of 
mind  or  of  life  nurtured  and  disciplined  in 
days  so  uneventful  that  they  have  no  his- 
tory. It  is  in  the  quietness  of  Ephraim 
that  the  force  is  stored  up  which  uses  the 
days  that  are  to  follow. 

Let  a  man,  for  instance,  who  is  a  stu- 
dent, permit  himself  no  pause  in  his  eager 
acquisitions,  and  he  becomes  only  a  ped- 
ant, a  bookworm  ;  not  a  channel  of  living 
truth,  but  a  cistern  of  stagnant  truth ;  but 
let  him  welcome  in  himself  moments  of 
quiet  receptivity,  when  he  cannot  reckon 
himself  as  acquiring  anything,  but  is  per- 
mitting his  larger  purposes  to  flow  in 
upon  his  mind,  and  in  these  contempla- 
tive 


io6 


tive  experiences  he  finds  that  the  great 
creative  movements  of  his  work  have  had 
their  remote  and  secret  source.  Or  let  a 
man  hurry  on  in  the  rush  of  his  business 
or  his  society  or  his  home,  with  no  time 
to  think  whither  he  is  hurrying,  and,  when 
the  test  of  his  strength  arrives,  he  meets 
it  only  with  exhaustion  and  despair.  He 
is  like  a  man  who  has  been  living  on  the 
edge  of  his  physical  health.  He  is  well 
until  he  is  tested  by  some  sudden  strain, 
and  then  he  is  smitten  down.  What  sad- 
der sight  have  we  to  see  than  this  kind 
of  moral  breakdown  in  a  man  who  had 
seemed  to  himself  strong,  but  who  has 
none  of  what  young  men  call  "staying 
power  "  ?  He  is  like  a  man  who  thinks 
himself  ready  for  a  race,  but  finds  him- 
self only  half-trained  for  it  ;  and,  when 
the  test  comes,  he  knows  that  no  conceiv- 
able effort  at  the  crisis  can  atone  for  the 
neglected  opportunities  of  quiet  discipline. 
And  what,  on  the  other  hand,  is  more 
beautiful  than  this,  —  to  see  a  man  meet 
the  tests  of  life,  and  meet  them  with  an 
abundant  strength,  not  as  though  he  were 
surprised  by  them,  but  as  though,  through 
the  unobserved  discipline  of  habitual  life, 

he 


in  Cp&ramt,  107 

he  was  ready  for  them  ?  Such  a  man  is 
like  an  athlete  to  whom  supreme  exertion 
is  not  a  distress  and  torture,  but  a  joy 
and  glory,  because  it  is  the  expression  of 
all  that  quiet  training  which  had  it  in 
view.  Nay,  rather  such  a  man  comes 
forth  as  Jesus  came  from  Ephraim,  with 
the  struggle  and  darkness  left  behind  him, 
and  the  step  of  a  conqueror  along  the  way 
that  is  left  to  tread. 

I  have  spoken  thus  of  these  moments 
of  withdrawal,  because  it  is  for  just  such 
moments  that  such  services  as  this  seem 
to  stand.  As  we  look  back  upon  them, 
at  their  close  for  this  year,  what  is  it  that 
they  seem  to  mean  ?  They  are  not  meet- 
ings for  discussion  or  argument  or  for 
the  demonstration  of  religious  truth.  We 
come  here  simply  because  the  pressure 
and  strain  of  life  are  constant,  because  its 
cares  and  perplexities  are  baffling,  because 
its  follies  and  trivial  events  are  absorbing, 
and  because  we  want  to  place  ourselves 
for  some  brief  instants  where  the  whole 
meaning  and  tendency  of  life  may  lie 
broadly  and  quietly  before  our  view.  But 
let  us  not  think  lightly  of  such  times  of 
meditation  and  communion.  It  may  be 

that 


io8 

that  the  very  issues  of  life  are  determined 
for  you  while  you  thus  sit  and  let  God 
speak  to  your  soul.  I  do  not  know  —  nor 
do  you  —  the  duties,  opportunities,  emer- 
gencies, to  which  you  will  soon  be  called  : 
whether  the  multitude  will  throw  their 
garments  in  your  way,  as  you  move  on  in 
some  noble  triumph,  or  whether  that  same 
multitude  will  scoff  at  you,  as  you  bear 
the  burden  of  your  cross,  or  whether  both 
these  things  will  happen  to  you.  But  this 
I  do  know :  that,  when  the  crises  of  life 
thus  meet  you,  as  they  met  your  Master, 
you  will  bear  them,  not  in  a  quick  acces- 
sion of  spiritual  strength,  but  in  the  power 
brought  down  into  your  life  through  some 
such  moments  ^  as  are  permitted  to  you 
here  of  quiet  receptivity  before  the  spirit 
of  your  God,  so  that,  while  the  world  may 
sum  up  the  great  moments  of  your  life  in 
its  conspicuous  activities,  you  will  silently 
refer  them  to  the  experience  of  some  re- 
mote and  unrecorded  Ephraim. 

I  remember  in  Austria  a  high  hill  rising 
out  of  the  plain,  with  a  steep  and  rugged 
pathway  winding  up  its  flanks,  and,  at 
the  top,  a  broad  and  beautiful  view  and 
a  shrine  for  prayer.  As  one  wearily 

climbs 


in  Cpljraim,  109 

climbs  the  hill,  he  finds  at  intervals  rough 
benches  set  for  his  rest ;  and  opposite 
each  bench  is  set  up  one  of  those  rude 
pictures  from  the  last  days  of  Jesus,  which 
are  called  in  Catholic  countries  "the  sta- 
tions of  the  cross."  Thus,  one  pauses  in 
his  climbing;  and,  as  he  pauses,  there  looks 
down  upon  him  one  great  thought  out  of 
the  life  of  Christ.  And  so,  refreshed,  he 
climbs  again ;  and  the  landscape  slowly 
broadens  beneath  him,  until  at  last  the 
world  on  every  side  lies  at  his  feet  and 
the  final  station  of  the  cross  is  won.  Such 
is  the  normal  and  healthy  progress  of  a 
human  life.  It  must  be  climbing,  and 
it  must  be  weary.  No  fool  is  greater 
than  he  who  would  see  the  vision  from 
the  heights  of  life  without  making  the 
effort  to  climb.  Yet  here  and  there  along 
this  steep  ascent  there  are  given  us  brief 
chances  to  pause  and  rest, —  moments  like 
those  which  Jesus  sought  in  the  quietness 
of  Ephraim,  and  like  these  which,  in  God's 
mercy,  we  have  been  permitted  to  share 
together  here ;  and,  as  we  thus  pause, 
there  looks  down  upon  us  one  solemn 
thought  of  the  Christian  life,  with  its 
plain  and  restful  message.  So,  refreshed 

and 


no 

and  strengthened,  let  us  climb  again,  from 
the  lower  to  the  higher  levels,  from  station 
to  station  of  larger  outlook,  until  at  last, 
in  God's  own  time,  we  may  stand  where 
the  world  and  its  temptations  are  softened 
into  a  landscape  at  our  feet  and  the  final 
station  of  the  cross  is  won. 


XIV. 
NICODEMUS. 

JOHN  iii.  1-9;  vii.  45-52;  xix.  38-41. 

'"THHESE  three  passages  tell  us  all  that 
J-  we  know  of  this  man  named  Nico- 
demus.  The  first  of  these  incidents  was 
on  a  day  near  the  beginning  of  the  min- 
istry of  Jesus ;  the  second  occurs  more 
than  two  years  later;  the  third,  some  six 
months  later  still.  It  is  interesting  to 
notice  the  character  and  position  of  the 
man  who  thus  stands  before  us.  He  is 
an  exceptional  type  in  the  Gospels.  Most 
of  the  early  disciples  were  plain  people, 
fishermen,  and  country  folk.  This  man, 
on  the  contrary,  was  an  educated  and 
cultivated  gentleman,  a  member  of  that 
council  which  gave  law  to  his  nation. 
Translated  into  our  modern  life,  his  place 
was  something  like  that  of  a  respected 
lawyer  or  an  honored  judge  in  one  of  our 
upper  courts.  Here  we  have  then — what 

we 


ii2 

we  have  hardly  anywhere  else  in  the  Gos- 
pels—  the  contact  of  Christianity  with  a 
cultivated  life ;  and  we  see  this  life  un- 
folding itself  before  us  through  its  whole 
religious  history.  The  stages  of  this  con- 
tact are  marked  by  the  three  days  of  which 
we  have  read.  This  educated  man,  want- 
ing to  know  about  the  message  of  Christ, 
turns  straight  to  the  Master  himself.  It 
was  a  sincere,  candid,  scientific  thing  to 
do.  It  shows  us  an  open-minded  man. 
He  comes  to  Jesus  by  night,  and  it  is 
commonly  thought  that  he  came  by  night 
because  he  was  afraid  to  come  by  day. 
I  think  it  was,  on  the  contrary,  a  mark  of 
his  prudence  and  sagacity.  It  was  not  for 
him  to  follow  Jesus  with  the  noisy,  shal- 
low rabble  that  thronged  about  the  new 
Teacher  through  the  day.  It  was  for  him 
to  seek  out  some  quiet  hour  of  evening 
meditation,  when  the  Master  could  be 
found  alone,  and  when  he  could  calmly 
investigate  what  the  new  leader  meant  to 
do.  Thus  it  was  that  he  came  by  night, 
as  a  truly  scientific  student  and  critic 
should  have  done ;  and  then  it  was  that 
Jesus  poured  out  upon  him  that  marvel- 
lous conversation  which  we  usually  asso- 
ciate with  the  name  of  Nicodemus. 

"  Except 


jlitcoDr  mu0.  1 1 3 

"  Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  can- 
not see  the  kingdom  of  God";  "That 
which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh,  and 
that  which  is  born  of  the  spirit  is  spirit " ; 
"The  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth  :  so  is 
every  one  that  is  born  of  the  spirit."  All 
these  utterances  have  a  height  and  depth 
and  range  hardly  equalled  even  in  the  gos- 
pel narratives.  What  Jesus  is  trying  to 
unfold  in  this  first  interview  is  that  which 
must  always  be  the  first  word  of  religion. 
It  is  the  teaching  of  the  naturalness  of 
the  supernatural.  Like  the  birth  into 
one's  physical  life, —  with  the  same  natu- 
ralness, yet  with  the  same  mystery  and 
miracle, —  like  the  coming  of  the  wind, — 
ordered  by  natural  laws,  yet  by  laws  be- 
yond our  comprehension, —  so  is  the  com- 
ing of  the  influence  of  God  upon  a  human 
life.  It  is  the  same  message  which  in  our 
own  day  is  pressing  to  be  heard,  the  natu- 
ralness of  the  supernatural.  But  Nicode- 
mus  cannot  receive  it.  He  has  not  come 
there  to  hear  such  a  method.  He  has  come 
there  to  ask  his  own  questions,  to  inves- 
tigate and  criticise  ;  and  so  the  critic  turns 
away,  puzzled  and  bewildered.  "  How  can 
these  things  be?"  That  is  all  he  says, 

and 


ii4 

and   for   two   years  we   hear  of    him    no 
more. 

What  do  you  suppose  happened  to  this 
man  in  those  two  years  ?  We  do  not 
know.  We  only  know  that  the  experi- 
ence of  life  must  have  pressed  upon  him 
as  upon  other  men.  A  few  new  joys  must 
have  come  into  his  life,  and  a  few  trials 
and  sorrows  must  have  befallen  him ;  and, 
as  each  fresh  experience  touched  him,  he 
must  have  recalled  that  wonderful  inter- 
view which  he  at  the  time  so  little  under- 
stood. "  This  is  what  the  stranger  meant," 
he  must  have  said  to  himself,  as  he  tried  to 
interpret  his  experience.  "  Now  I  begin 
to  see  that  what  is  born  of  the  flesh  is 
flesh,  and  what  is  born  of  the  spirit  is 
spirit.  More  and  more  I  discover  that,  as 
he  told  me,  nature  is  full  of  mystery ;  and 
that  the  way  of  Christ,  mysterious  though 
it  is,  is  the  way  of  nature."  How  do  we 
know  that  Nicodemus  thus  remembered 
Jesus  ?  It  is  because,  when  we  next  see 
him,  he  has  taken  a  great  step.  He  is  no 
longer  standing  bewildered  before  Christ, 
nor  seeking  him  out  like  a  critic  in  the 
dark ;  but  he  is  openly  pleading  with  his 
brethren  for  justice  to  Jesus,  "Doth  our 

law 


jjiteo&emus.  1 1 5 

law  judge  any  man,"  he  asks  judicially, 
"before  it  hear  him  and  know  what  he 
cloeth  ? "  Jesus,  he  has  come  to  believe, 
should  have  a  fair  chance.  His  message 
deserves  to  be  heard.  It  has  made  its 
impression  on  him  in  spite  of  his  first 
bewilderment.  Then  he  came  as  a  critic, 
and  went  away  without  any  conscious  gain. 
Now  he  reappears  after  these  years  of 
experience,  and  the  message  has  plainly 
grown  upon  him,  so  that  he  takes  the  step 
from  the  position  of  a  critic  to  the  posi- 
tion of  an  advocate.  He  is  no  longer  a 
neutral :  he  is  ready  to  confess  that  the 
word  of  Christ  has  meant  something  to 
him. 

One  other  step  remains  for  this  edu- 
cated man  to  take,  and  it  comes  naturally 
and  it  comes  soon.  The  life  of  Jesus  is 
hurried  to  its  close.  The  hopes  that 
lived  with  it  seem  buried  in  his  grave. 
The  new  faith  seems  nailed  to  his  cross. 
It  is  a  time  to  test  the  supremest  loyalty. 
Then  it  is  that  Nicodemus  comes  again,— 
comes  not  to  talk  about  his  faith,  but  to 
do  something  in  witness  of  it,  to  offer 
himself  for  service.  Just  when  the  cause 
seems  most  hopeless  comes  this  cultivated 

gentleman, 


n6 

gentleman,  with  his  offering,  bringing  his 
myrrh  and  aloes, —  nay,  bringing  the  offer- 
ing of  himself  for  the  cause  which  he  has 
slowly  learned  to  love.  He  comes  as  a 
willing,  obedient  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Such  is  the  story  of  Nicodemus.  So 
his  religious  life  unfolds  itself  before  us  in 
these  three  glimpses  of  his  three  great 
days.  First,  he  has  tried  to  find  religion 
by  the  way  of  criticism  ;  and  the  problems 
of  religion  have  been  opened  before  him, 
though  he  could  not  enter  in.  Then  he 
has  tried  the  way  of  experience,  and 
through  the  interpreting  of  his  own  life 
he  has  been  led  to  see  that  religion  has  a 
right  to  be  heard  among  the  factors  of  the 
world.  Finally,  he  commits  himself  to 
the  way  of  service;  and,  in  that  offering 
of  himself  for  service,  his  criticism  and 
his  experience  find  their  goal.  From 
neutrality,  through  justice,  into  obedi- 
ence ;  from  criticism,  through  experience, 
into  service, —  that  was  the  way  in  which 
the  life  of  this  educated  and  high-minded 
man  seems  to  have  been  led.  And  such, 
it  seems  to  me,  is  the  normal  course  of  an 
intelligent  man  in  his  relation  to  religion. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  there  comes  one  great 

tumultuous 


117 

tumultuous  and  passionate  shock,  which 
revolutionizes  life  in  an  instant,  and  re- 
moves all  distinctions  of  intelligence  and 
ignorance.  But  the  way  of  Nicodemus 
remains  the  type  of  a  normal  religious 
growth.  Let  an  educated  man  come,  first 
of  all,  to  Jesus  with  an  open  and  honest 
mind.  In  some  quiet  evening  of  medita- 
tion, let  his  soul  come  face  to  face  with 
the  message  of  religion,  and  let  him  hear 
it  in  all  its  naturalness,  yet  in  all  its  mys- 
tery. That  is  the  attitude  of  criticism, 
and  it  is  not  to  be  discouraged  nor  de- 
spised. But  let  a  man  be  nothing  but  a 
critic,  and  he  remains  nothing  but  a  neu- 
tral. He  can  only  turn  away  with  the 
words  of  Nicodemus,  "  How  can  these 
things  be?"  What  the  message  of  relig- 
ion must  have  is  time.  It  must  be  taken 
up  into  the  material  of  experience.  A 
man  must  try  it,  as  he  tries  a  key  to 
life,  and  see  whether  it  unlocks  things 
that  were  hidden.  As  his  joys  encourage 
him  or  his  trials  perplex  him  or  his  temp- 
tations beset  him,  he  must  unlock  their 
meaning  with  such  words  as  these:  "That 
which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh,  and 
that  which  is  born  of  the  spirit  is  spirit " ; 

and, 


u8  ^arbara  ©esters. 

and,  passing  into  the  regions  opened  by 
such  a  key,  he  must  consider  whether 
they  are  not  the  regions  where  he  wants 
to  dwell,  and  where  his  life  is  interpreted 
and  sustained.  And  yet  another  region 
still  waits  beyond  this  interpreting  of  ex- 
perience before  complete  discipleship  is 
reached.  It  is  the  world  of  service.  Let 
a  man  remain  in  the  world  of  criticism, 
and  he  never  realizes  the  truth  of  religion 
at  all.  Let  him  remain  in  the  world  of 
experience,  and  he  realizes  it  only  self- 
ishly and  partially.  But  let  him,  having 
weighed  the  matter  with  an  open  mind, 
and  having  tested  it  by  the  experience  of 
life,  then  bring  to  it,  not  the  profession 
of  his  lips,  but  the  offering  of  himself  for 
the  service  of  his  God ;  and  then  the 
course  of  a  religious  experience  is  com- 
plete. It  is  like  the  story  of  many  young 
men,  whose  names  you  daily  read  in  yon- 
der transept,  where  you  bare  your  head 
as  you  pass  by.  They  had  heard  the 
principles  of  their  country  expounded  to 
them  here ;  and  they  had  received  them 
by  the  way  of  criticism,  and  they  had 
done  well.  Then  they  had  tested  their 
principles  by  the  way  of  experience,  and 

had 


1 19 

had  found  that  a  country  of  freedom  and 
union  was  a  country  where  they  wanted 
to  live.  Then  comes  the  final  test,  the 
test  of  service.  Could  they  offer  for  their 
country's  sake  the  myrrh  and  aloes  of 
their  fragrant  young  lives,  just  when  the 
principles  of  their  country  seem  nailed 
upon  a  cross?  It  was  that  great  transi- 
tion which  changed  those  youths  from 
commonplace  young  men  to  whom  educa- 
tion had  brought  no  greatness  into  the 
heroes  and  martyrs  whom  we  remember 
forever. 

So  it  is  that  the  summons  of  the  relig- 
ious life  meets  educated  men  to-day.  It 
asks  no  abrupt  acceptance,  no  unreason- 
able emotion.  It  meets  first  the  critical 
mind,  but  asks  us  to  be  more  than  critics ; 
it  meets  next  the  experience  of  life,  but 
asks  us  to  be  more  than  introspective 
interpreters  of  our  own  problems ;  it  sum- 
mons us  finally  into  the  way  of  unpreten- 
tious, honest  service,  as  the  way  which 
verifies  and  sustains  the  hidden  things  of 
faith.  What  is  there  more  stagnant  and 
sterile  than  a  life  which  would  get  every- 
thing by  the  way  of  criticism  ?  What 
is  there  more  introspective,  self-absorbed, 

and 


and  inadequate  than  the  constant  inter- 
preting of  one's  own  experience  ?  But 
what  is  there  more  beautiful  among  the 
sights  of  earth  than  to  see  a  man,  with 
the  bloom  of  his  education  on  him,  pass- 
ing on,  through  the  way  of  criticism  and 
the  way  of  experience,  into  the  way  of 
service,  gathering  up  the  results  of  his 
inquiries  and  the  broadening  experience 
of  his  life,  and  bringing  these  gifts,  like 
fragrant  spices,  as  offerings  to  the  Higher 
Life?  It  is  as  if  you  should  be  standing 
at  first  outside  some  great  cathedral,  and 
studying  its  towers  and  porches  and  criti- 
cising its  spires.  It  is  the  student's  mind 
investigating  the  master's  art.  Yet  slowly 
your  feet  are  leading  you  from  without  to 
within;  and,  as  you  enter,  you  pass  from 
the  attitude  of  a  critic  to  the  attitude  of 
a  worshipper.  Your  experience  spreads 
itself  out  before  you  as  you  enter,  and 
you  are  lifted  by  the  lifting  arches  and 
broadened  by  the  broadening  aisles.  Thus 
you  move  slowly  on,  up  the  long  aisle  of 
this  temple  of  a  Christian  experience, 
until  at  last  you  lay  the  little  gift  you 
have  —  even  your  own  unpretending,  sin- 
cere, modest,  consecrated  manhood  itself 
—  upon  the  altar. 


I 


XV. 

A  LIFE   PURPOSE, 
i  COR.  ix. 

SUPPOSE  there  was  never  a  man 
who  rejoiced  more  in  liberty  than 
this  man  whose  words  we  have  been  read- 
ing. "  Am  I  not  free  ?"  he  asks.  When 
he  was  a  prisoner,  and  the  chief  captain 
said,  "With  a  great  sum  obtained  I  this 
freedom,"  he  answered,  "  But  I  was  free 
born."  So,  when  these  people  at  Corinth 
were  questioning  him  and  sitting  in  judg- 
ment upon  his  conduct,  he  answered  :  "Am 
I  not  free  ?  Can  I  not  do  as  I  please  ? 
Have  I  not  this  right  given  me,  that  I 
should  carry  on  my  own  ministry  accord- 
ing to  my  own  judgment  ?  " 

The  case  was  this  :  They  were  disputing 
whether  it  was  right  to  eat  meat  that  was 
offered  to  idols.  Some  said  they  might, 
others  said  they  might  not.  Paul  said  it 
was  perfectly  right  to  eat  it ;  that  putting 

the 


i22 

the  meat  before  an  idol  did  not  affect  it 
in  any  way.  Having  demonstrated  his 
perfect  right  to  eat  it,  he  said  :  "  I  shall 
let  it  alone.  I  have  a  right  to  do  it ;  but 
I  renounce  the  privilege,  and  I  do  that 
which  is  less  desirable  in  your  eyes."  He 
did  this,  not  from  any  spirit  of  mere  amia- 
bility or  good  nature.  He  did  it  not  at 
all  in  the  spirit  of  a  time-server.  But  he 
did  it  because,  in  using  his  freedom  in 
this  way,  he  could  accomplish  the  greater 
purpose  which  was  engaging  his  mind. 
He  had  set  himself  to  win  these  Corin- 
thians to  the  faith  of  Christ ;  and  nothing 
which  would  hinder  that  should  enter  into 
his  life,  nothing  which  would  help  that 
should  be  left  out  of  his  thought  and  work. 
Bending  everything  to  this  one  purpose, 
these  little  questions  about  eating  meat 
which  had  been  offered  to  idols,  about  his 
salary,  about  a  wife, —  all  these  things  set- 
tled themselves  in  the  train  of  that  great 
purpose  which  was  the  passion  and  the 
commandment  of  his  life. 

We  answer  that  question  always  with 
the  same  reply, —  Am  I  not  free  ?  We 
continually  assert  it.  We  assert  it  for 
ourselves,  and  when  we  judge  one  another. 

Yet 


#  iltfe  purpose.  123 

Yet  often,  because  the  assertion  of  our 
liberty  has  met  with  resistance,  we  aban- 
don our  purpose  and  turn  away  from  our 
plan,  as  if  some  force  were  arrayed  against 
us  which  we  could  not  overcome.  Take 
this  question  of  eating  meat  offered  to 
idols,  one  which  does  not  come  in  a  literal 
form  to  any  of  us.  Some  night,  alone 
under  the  stars,  we  debate  this  matter 
with  ourselves,  and  determine  that  we  will 
not  partake  of  the  meat.  We  go  to  our 
rest,  complacent  in  our  good  resolution. 
But,  in  the  morning,  habit  asserts  itself. 
The  customs  of  our  neighbors  appeal  to 
us.  We  have  a  craving,  a  hungering  for 
the  meat,  as  if  nothing  else  was  desir- 
able ;  and  it  seems  better  than  ever.  The 
chances  are  that,  before  the  sun  passes 
over  our  heads,  we  shall  be  eating  meat 
offered  to  idols.  Have  we  not  had  that 
experience  ?  We  feel  that  resolutions  and 
purposes  go  for  so  little ;  and  we  satirize 
them  in  our  philosophies  and  in  our  poetry, 
as  if  good  intentions  were  like  the  early 
dew  and  the  morning  cloud.  Yet  liberty 
is  a  very  real  thing.  We  have  done  in 
this  instance  precisely  as  we  pleased.  We 
chose  to  give  up  what  we  had  enjoyed, 

then 


124  H?art)aru 

then  we  chose  to  take  it  back.  That  was 
liberty.  Surrender  is  a  desperate  sort  of 
freedom.  The  man  who  is  keeping  a  be- 
leaguered city  at  last  opens  the  gate  and 
lets  the  enemy  in.  He  opens  the  gate  in 
perfect  freedom,  but  he  has  to  do  it.  So, 
when  we  give  up  our  resolution,  we  are 
perfectly  free,  but  we  have  to  give  it  up ; 
and  the  power  is  none  the  less  tyrannical 
because  it  is  in  us,  and  because  it  comes 
to  us  in  the  guise  of  freedom. 

Is  there  anything  which  will  hold  us  to 
the  purposes  which  we  deliberately  and 
carefully  form  ?  You  answer  that  we  must 
be  firm.  That  is  simply  substituting  one 
word  for  another.  Is  there  any  way  by 
which  we  can  be  firm  ?  We  can  be  firm 
by  laying  hold  upon  something  which  is 
firm.  If  I  can  grasp  something  which 
cannot  be  moved,  there  is  a  chance  that 
I  shall  not  be  moved.  Is  there  anything 
better  than  that  which  Paul  adopted  ?  He 
gave  his  thought  and  life  to  one  supreme 
and  constant  purpose.  Whatever  happens, 
whatever  I  gain  or  lose,  I  will  win  these 
Corinthians.  When  he  had  settled  that, 
all  other  things  adjusted  themselves  to  it. 
We  need  more  than  resolutions.  I  think 

we 


#  tlife  purpose.  125 

we  need  to  put  our  thought  in  the  singular 
number;  to  have  not  intentions,  but  in- 
tention ;  not  purposes,  but  purpose ;  not 
choices,  but  choice ;  some  one  thing  that 
is  great  enough  to  hold  us.  When  we 
get  this,  then  we  get  strength,  marvellous 
comfort,  and  achieve  a  wonderful  saving 
of  time.  It  is  unworthy  of  us,  it  is  inex- 
pedient and  unprofitable,  to  be  so  often 
discussing  little  questions  of  conduct,  little 
matters  of  casuistry.  Cannot  we  settle 
these  in  some  grand  principle,  so  that 
they  shall  adjust  themselves  to  our  life  as 
the  waves  adjust  themselves  to  the  ship 
which  is  sailing  through  them.  Some- 
times we  meet  these  questions  as  if  they 
were  a  swarm  of  gnats,  fighting  them  one 
by  one ;  when,  if  we  would  only  move  on, 
we  should  leave  them  behind,  and  then 
in  the  cool,  clear  air  we  could  do  the  work 
which  we  have  determined  to  do. 

I  think  you  will  find  it  difficult  to  recall 
any  man  who  has  done  much  in  life  who 
has  not  done  this.  You  do  not  find  the 
world's  great  men  sitting  down  to  consider 
these  little  things.  They  establish  them- 
selves in  one  great  purpose :  then  every- 
thing settles  itself  with  relation  to  that. 

When 


126  n?art)arD 

When  you  know  where  the  north  star  is, 
you  know  where  every  star  is  that  shines. 
When  you  adjust  yourselves  to  that,  you 
are  adjusting  yourselves  to  all  the  stars 
which  are  around  it.  When  the  soldier 
determines  to  give  himself  to  his  country, 
he  must  needs  give  up  home  and  comfort, 
and  a  thousand  other  things.  When  a 
student  determines  to  be  a  scholar,  he 
determines  to  give  up  everything  which 
would  hinder  his  purpose,  to  take  on 
whatever  would  help  it.  One  of  our  pro- 
fessors told  recently  of  a  merchant  who 
was  devoted  to  very  high  purposes  in  life, 
who  was  determined  to  be  a  man.  One 
day  a  ship  that  was  coming  home  was 
delayed.  He  became  anxious,  and  the 
next  day  more  troubled,  and  the  next 
still  more.  Then  he  came  to  himself,  and 
said,  "  Is  it  possible  that  I  am  coming 
to  love  money  for  itself,  and  not  for  its 
nobler  uses  ?  "  And,  taking  the  value  of 
the  ship  and  cargo,  he  gave  it  to  charities 
which  he  esteemed,  not  because  he  wished 
to  get  rid  of  the  money,  but  because  this 
was  essential  to  the  great  thing  which 
he  had  determined  to  do.  Then  there  is 
the  life,  so  interesting  and  stimulating,  of 

Hannington, 


&  ilifr  purpose,  127 

Hannington,  the  bishop  and  martyr ;  a 
man  who  turned  aside  from  the  allure- 
ments of  the  life  to  which  he  was  born, 
dropping  one  thing  after  another,  that  he 
might  be  a  better  priest  in  his  parish  ;  sell- 
ing his  horse,  because  money  would  serve 
his  purpose  better  ;  changing  his  carriage 
house  into  a  chapel,  because  his  purpose 
needed  the  chapel ;  leaving  England  and 
venturing  into  the  heart  of  Africa,  be- 
cause there  he  could  better  do  the  work 
to  which  he  had  devoted  himself.  Is  there 
anything  which  will  hold  a  man  against 
all  weakness  and  all  temptation  so  well  as 
this  covenant  which  he  has  made  with  his 
own  heart, —  This  one  thing  I  will  do; 
and  this,  not  less,  not  other,  shall  be  my 
success  ? 

Then  there  comes  one  other  question,— 
What  is  it  to  which  a  man  has  a  right  thus 
to  devote  himself?  It  must  be  something 
which  is  so  high  that  it  is  right  to  leave 
everything  else  to  secure  it,  a  purpose  so 
high  that  nothing  else  shall  enforce  its 
claim  in  the  presence  of  it.  Here,  in  this 
house,  in  this  service,  over  this  book,  there 
is  but  one  thing  which  a  man  can  say, 
there  is  but  one  choice  so  high  that  every 

other 


128 

other  choice  ought  to  submit  to  it.  There 
is  one  purpose  so  grand  that  every  other 
ought  to  give  way  before  it.  That  is,  to 
live  for  Him  who  is  the  truth,  the  life, 
the  Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour  of  men. 
When  we  devote  ourselves  to  him,  ques- 
tions of  casuistry  are  answered.  Whether 
you  eat  meat  offered  to  an  idol  depends 
on  whether  eating  it  or  letting  it  alone 
will  better  serve  your  purpose  to  be  his 
disciple  and  apostle.  Whether  you  take 
this  course  or  that  depends  upon  its  rela- 
tion to  the  greater  thing.  You  are  taken 
out  of  the  little  things  that  centre  in  self. 
Questions  of  ease,  questions  of  self-indul- 
gence, questions  of  gain, —  they  are  all 
behind  us.  When  we  have  settled  with 
ourselves  and  with  our  God  that  we  will 
do  the  things  which  are  pleasing  in  his 
sight,  then  comes  the  truth  that,  if  a  man 
wills  to  do  the  will  of  my  Father,  he  shall 
know  ;  if  a  man  keeps  my  commandments, 
Jesus  said,  God  will  live  with  him,  and  I 
will  live  with  him  ;  if  a  man  follow  me, 
I  will  give  unto  him  eternal  life.  In  the 
presence  of  these  spiritual  truths,  what 
are  these  little  questions  of  meat  and 
drink,  of  pleasure  and  ease, —  the  trifling 

themes 


0  ilife  purpose*  129 

themes  of  popular  casuistry  ?  They  fall 
into  their  proper  insignificance;  and  we 
press  our  way  forward  along  a  triumphant 
career,  honorable  in  its  course,  and  faith- 
ful to  that  crown  which  awaits  all  true 
and  constant  service.  And,  when  the  Son 
of  God  goes  forth  to  war,  we  follow  in  his 
train. 


XVI. 

MAKING   ALL  THINGS   NEW. 
REV.  xxi. 

IT  seems  as  if  words  of  such  gorgeous 
and  vague  imagery  as  these  were  the 
very  words  we  need  as  we  pass  from  one 
period  into  another,  and  especially  as  we 
stand  at  the  beginning  of  one  of  these 
periods,  which,  however  arbitrary  they  may 
be,  still  by  their  associations  represent  all 
the  relationship  of  the  past  to  the  future. 
We  stand  just  where  we  need  to  read 
these  words  which  paint  this  future  in  all 
its  gorgeousness.  There  are  some  words 
in  this  Book  of  Revelation,  and  especially 
in  this  richest  of  all  its  chapters,  which 
seem  to  me  to  come  to  us  with  a  certain 
definiteness  and  distinctness.  There  is 
one  verse  that  I  should  like  to  read  as 
the  old  year  passes  into  the  new,  sitting 
quietly  with  the  book  open  and  letting 
the  thought  of  its  words  pass  into  my 

soul. 


11  flings  jjieto,      131 

soul.  The  transition  from  state  to  state 
is  inevitably  dreary,  unless  there  be  some 
principle  which  underlies  it.  But  it  seems 
to  me  that,  if  we  could  take  one  of  these 
verses  and  read  it  as  the  old  year  was 
passing  into  the  new  year,  we  should  get 
here  just  the  distinctness  and  the  solidity 
which  the  idea  of  transitoriness  needs. 
It  is  that  verse  which  says,  "  He  that  sat 
upon  the  throne  said,  BehoJd  I  make  all 
things  new."  The  changing  of  the  past 
into  the  future  is  so  dreary  that  men 
shrink  from  it.  They  strive  to  cling  to 
the  past  that  is  inevitably  slipping  from 
their  hands,  because  the  future  is  so 
vague  and  unreal  to  them.  But,  if  there 
be  one  the  richness  of  whose  life  makes 
the  past  and  the  future  one,  if  there  be 
one  who  in  the  very  fact  of  change  can 
say,  not  "all  things  become  new,"  but 
"  I  make  all  things  new,"  the  constructive 
power  of  the  past  being  fulfilled  in  the 
future,  then  how  gracious  it  becomes ! 
Then  the  soul  that  looks  for  God  and  his 
manifestation  expects  the  larger  manifes- 
tations that  are  to  be  given  to  it  in  the 
days  that  are  to  come.  We  are  going 
to  realize  when  we  look  back  upon  this 

period 


132 

period  of  our  life,  this  century  in  which 
we  live,  how  the  thought  of  God,  the 
moving  principle,  and  his  entire  relation 
to  the  things  that  are  moving,  has  taken 
possession  of  the  world.  Men  talked  of 
God  a  century  ago,  and  it  was  as  if  they 
talked  of  an  artificer,  a  carpenter,  a  builder, 
who  stood  somewhere  out  of  his  world, 
and  then,  having  made  it,  sent  it  forth  as 
if  it  were  a  ship  upon  the  ocean,  only 
letting  it  come  back  to  him  as  it  needed 
repairs.  If  there  is  a  great  thought  that 
has  come  to  men's  minds,  it  is  that  God 
is  not  outside  of  his  world,  but  that  he  is 
inside.  He  is  perpetually  leading  it  on 
from  instant  to  instant,  so  that  we  are 
sometimes  almost  inclined  to  lose  it  in 
him  and  him  in  it.  Thus  we  feel  that 
the  whole  conception  of  God  and  his  rela- 
tion to  the  world  to-day  shows  the  rich 
meaning  of  those  words  that  have  come 
down  to  us  through  the  ages,  "  Behold  I, 
this  living  power,  this  living  principle, 
I  make  all  things  new." 

It  seems  to  me  that  one  of  the  ways 
in  which  this  word  of  God  is  perpetually 
being  verified,  and  is  perpetually  becom- 
ing a  blessed  consciousness  to  us,  is  in 

the 


011  SDljingsf  jjieto.       133 

the  way  we  are  constantly  assured  that 
the  newness  of  the  world  must  be  in  the 
newness  of  its  human  creatures.  It  is 
not  that  the  world  changes :  it  is  that 
man  changes.  The  world  might  not  be 
the  same;  but,  if  men  were  the  same,  it 
would  still  be  a  monotony.  All  things 
must  be  forever  new  to  every  man.  Think 
how  they  are  new  to  every  man  who  comes 
into  the  world.  The  world  deals  out  its 
systems  of  philosophy,  it  accumulates  its 
rich  store  of  experience ;  and  then  every 
new  child  that  is  born  into  the  world  has 
to  begin  again,  as  if  he  were  the  first  one. 
Sorrow,  joy,  friendship,  enmity,  all  these 
experiences  of  men's  souls,  we  learn  about 
when  we  are  children.  We  cannot  know 
them  till  they  come  to  us.  They  are  born 
anew  to  every  new  man.  Columbus  sails 
across  the  ocean,  and  finds  America ;  and 
it  seems  as  if  he  had  found  it  for  all 
voyagers  since.  Yet  every  new  ship  and 
every  new  voyager  discovers  it  again.  So 
the  age  is  born  anew  for  every  soul  that 
enters  it.  Who  can  tell  what  the  world 
is  for  any  one  of  his  brethren  ?  I  often 
think  that  I  would  like  to  be  one  of  my 
fellow-creatures,  it  matters  not  who,  for 

ten 


134 

ten  minutes,  that  I  might  know  what 
it  is  for  that  man.  There  is  something 
awful  in  the  thought  that  a  man  goes 
through  these  threescore  years  and  ten, 
and  is  always  simply  himself ;  that  he  does 
not  know  how  the  sunshine  appears,  how 
the  world  seems,  how  the  skies  bend  over 
the  head  of  any  one  but  himself.  We  get 
some  glimpses  of  how  the  world  reports 
itself  to  others.  What  are  those  miracles 
of  Jesus  over  which  the  world  disputes 
except  the  recognition  by  the  world  of  its 
master,  who  speaks  to  it  ?  This  world  is 
so  much  more  to  him  than  it  was  to  his 
ancestors,  who  knew  so  little  of  its  secret, 
who  had  entered  so  little  into  its  largest 
confidence,  showing  more  complete  obedi- 
ence to  the  master  of  its  life  when  he 
stands  in  its  midst.  If  Christ  be  a  mani- 
festation of  God,  miracle  is  the  very  first 
condition  of  his  life.  I  look  for  it  the 
very  moment  that  I  know  his  nature. 
The  world  turns  its  new  side,  its  deeper 
being,  out  to  him,  as  it  turns  a  new  side 
to  every  man  who  has  looked  into  it,  and 
claimed  the  mastery  over  the  world  in 
which  God  has  set  him  as  its  lord. 
So,  if  the  world  is  made  new  with  every 

creature, 


011  Swings  Jlieto.      135 

creature,  what  is  the  expectation  for  the 
future  ?  Not  only  that  each  man  is  going 
to  be  grander  and  stronger,  but  that  hu- 
manity is  to  be  stronger.  The  whole 
race  moves  forward.  Not  only  occasion- 
ally, but  steadily  and  solemnly,  the  whole 
great  life  of  man  moves  on.  Who  can 
tell  what  this  obedient  earth,  so  richly 
yielding  her  resources,  so  observant  of 
the  power  and  life  of  man,  is  going  to 
be  to  man  in  the  years  to  come  ?  A  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth  must  come  when 
a  new  man  comes  to  claim  it.  The  only 
way  for  us  to  make  a  new  world  is  to  be 
forever  new  men.  The  only  way  for  us 
to  take  upon  our  lips  a  new  song,  to  count 
God's  mercies  new  every  morning,  is  to 
be  perpetually  new  men,  to  find  our  lives 
new  with  every  rising  of  the  sun.  Oh, 
the  great  depth  of  that  word  of  the  Master, 
who  said  to  his  disciple,  "Thou  must  be 
born  again  "  !  To  Nicodemus,  who  asked 
for  new  laws  and  new  arrangements,  the 
Master  said,  "  You  must  be  a  new  man." 
Do  you  ever  dread  the  tedium  of  life? 
Does  it  ever  seem  to  you  that,  bright  as 
life  is  at  its  entrance,  it  must  by  and 
by  become  monotonous  ?  As  if  the  ever 

rising 


136 

rising  and  setting  of  the  sun,  the  ever 
going  on  of  the  seasons,  the  everlast- 
ing repetition  of  those  laws  and  routines 
which  the  social  and  political  life  of  man 
has  beaten  out,  must  become  wearisome 
and  dead  with  their  constant  reiteration  ? 
What  is  the  prospect,  unless  there  is 
every  new  day  a  deeper  life  for  every 
child  of  God,  a  deeper  conception  of  his 
Father's  nature,  his  Father's  influence, 
and  his  Father's  love  ?  And  the  great 
truth  is  that  he  who  makes  men  new  with 
every  beginning  day  makes  the  world  new 
with  every  beginning  day. 

Let  us  pray  for  a  new  birth,  not  as  one 
experience,  but  as  the  perpetual  experience 
of  our  lives  ;  for  such  nearness  to  our  God 
that  every  day  he  shall  give  us  something 
more  of  himself,  be  something  more  to  us, 
so  that,  being  ourselves  forever  new,  the 
whole  world  may  forever  have  richness 
and  abundance  and  variety  and  beauty 
and  interest  and  joy  and  education  to  give 
us,  so  long  as  we  live.  So  may  we  enter 
upon  a  new  year  with  the  promise  of  a 
new  life. 


XVII. 

MORAL    HEROISM. 
HEB.  xii.  i,  2. 

THE  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  has  been  exhibiting  the 
power  of  faith,  faith  in  the  living  God. 
He  has  been  citing  examples  of  it  in  the 
olden  time ;  and  he  has  brought  forward 
a  great  number  of  witnesses  to  show  that 
this  faith  supported  men  under  the  great- 
est trials,  and  led  them  to  the  exhibition 
of  the  highest  type  of  moral  heroism. 
Moral  heroism  in  life  was  the  fruit  of 
their  faith.  Now,  he  says  to  those  to 
whom  he  is  writing,  you  have  the  same 
faith ;  and  your  life  ought  to  be  equally 
manly,  equally  robust,  equally  heroic.  As 
he  is  pressing  this  matter  upon  them,  the 
figure  occurs  to  him  of  a  race-course  ;  and 
he  says,  "Wherefore,  seeing  we  also  are 
compassed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of 
witnesses,  let  us  lay  aside  every  weight, 

and 


138  J?art)ar& 

and  the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset  us, 
and  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that 
is  set  before  us." 

There  are  two  branches  to  his  figure, 
if  we  look  into  it :  first,  the  influence  of 
the  race  itself  upon  the  runner ;  and  then 
the  added  influence  of  the  on-lookers. 
Through  these  two  branches  of  his  figure, 
we  get  these  two  ideas  :  first,  the  influence 
of  a  man's  own  faith  ;  and  then  the  added 
influence  of  that  same  faith  held  by  the 
world  at  large  encompassing  him,  really 
present  to  his  thought  and  imagination. 
Let  me  dwell  for  a  moment  on  each  of 
these  branches  of  the  figure. 

First,  of  the  influence  of  the  race  upon 
the  runner.  Discipline  is  inseparable  from 
the  idea  of  a  race.  Every  true  athlete  has 
a  trainer,  who  prescribes  for  him  what  he 
shall  eat  and  what  he  shall  drink  and  the 
form  of  his  exercise.  For  the  time  being, 
the  athlete  has  no  will.  He  is  in  the  atti- 
tude of  self-surrender  to  one  who  guides 
him,  an  instructor  who  is  wiser  than  he. 
He  recognizes  the  necessity  of  cheerful 
submission,  of  hearty  self-surrender,  that 
the  discipline  may  do  its  best  work  for 
him.  He  never  thinks  of  grumbling  at 

the 


139 

the  prescription,  at  the  self-surrender. 
The  idea  of  the  race  carries  this  with 
it.  So  the  writer  tells  us  a  man  who 
holds  faith  in  the  living  God  carries  with 
that  the  idea  of  discipline.  He  has  a 
heavenly  educator,  a  heavenly  trainer  to 
whom  he  submits  his  will,  giving  himself 
up  in  hearty  surrender,  that  his  soul  may 
be  wrought  into  athletic  form.  And  all 
this  through  the  whole  system  of  disci- 
pline which  is  laid  upon  him  by  the  will 
of  his  trainer.  It  may  be  temptation,  it 
may  be  disappointment ;  in  later  life,  it 
may  be  sorrow  and  bereavement.  What- 
ever it  is,  it  is  a  system  of  discipline  laid 
upon  the  individual  life  by  one  outside  of 
and  greater  than  himself;  and  the  very 
idea  of  faith  implies  cheerful,  hearty  sur- 
render, in  order  that  an  athletic  condition 
of  soul  may  be  attained.  Again,  it  is  in- 
separable from  the  idea  of  the  race  that 
the  racer  rid  himself  of  every  encumbrance. 
A  man  does  not  appear  on  the  race-course 
with  overcoat  and  muffler  on  :  he  strips 
himself  to  a  condition  in  which  he  can 
show  the  utmost  fleetness.  And  so  self- 
denial  is  inseparable  from  Christian  faith. 
There  are  certain  gratifications  and  cer- 
tain 


140 

tain  pleasures,  certain  forms  of  excite- 
ment, that  the  Christian  man  does  not 
expect.  They  are  incompatible  with  the 
very  idea  of  faith.  We  hear  a  great  many 
sermons  preached  about  amusements.  The 
matter  often  seems  very  complicated.  It 
is  in  reality  the  simplest  thing  in  the 
world.  If  a  man  has  given  himself  up  to 
the  pursuit  of  the  highest,  he  will  never 
have  any  trouble  about  how  much  or  how 
little  he  can  have  of  them.  What  he 
wants  is  to  make  moral  victory  sure. 
Everything  that  would  threaten  him  with 
moral  loss  is  cast  out  of  account.  Every- 
thing that  menaces  victory  is  bad.  Every- 
thing that  gives  more  speed,  power,  en- 
durance, is  good.  A  man  who  has  faith 
has  self-denial.  That  is  implied  in  his 
faith. 

Once  more,  when  he  has  been  wrought 
into  an  athletic  condition,  and  has  placed 
himself  on  the  race-course,  stripped  for 
the  race,  the  next  thing  is  exertion.  From 
start  to  goal,  he  runs  with  all  his  might. 
So  the  idea  is  inseparable  from  faith  of 
vigorous  volition  from  day  to  day,  per- 
sistent, robust,  willing,  manly  assertion 
of  individuality  in  the  face  of  opposing 

circumstances. 


J?erot0m.  141 

circumstances.  There  is  discipline  work 
ing  out  an  athletic  condition  ;  self-denial 
ridding  us  of  encumbrances  and  besetting 
sins  ;  and  then  exertion  pressing  the  whole 
power  of  personality  into  the  victorious 
pursuit  of  moral  good  on  which  we  have 
set  our  heart,  and  which  we  believe  to  be 
the  supreme  end  of  human  life  and  the 
rational  justification  of  our  existence  in 
this  world. 

I  have  hardly  time  to  develop  the  other 
part  of  the  figure:  just  let  me  allude 
to  it, —  the  influence  of  spectators  upon 
athletic  contests.  We  know  that  the 
presence  of  a  multitude  of  people,  a  pro- 
miscuous, indiscriminate  mass,  throws  a 
stimulus  into  all  such  contests.  But  we 
know,  also,  that,  if  there  are  in  the 
multitude  old,  eminent  athletes,  who  can 
appreciate  skill  and  power  and  victorious 
energy,  the  presence  of  this  small  number 
in  a  vast  crowd  is  an  added  stimulus. 
Then,  if  there  are  those  in  the  crowd 
who  would  be  glad  to  see  the  contestants 
defeated,  who  are  enemies  of  their  success, 
their  presence  in  the  crowd  is  another 
stimulus.  There  is  the  stimulus  of  the 
mass,  there  is  the  stimulus  of  the  eminent 

few, 


142  J?arfearD  Vespers* 

few,  and  there  is  the  stimulus  of  opposi- 
tion and  enmity. 

Now,  he  must  be  a  very  pale  specimen 
of  humanity,  he  must  have  very  thin  blood 
in  his  veins,  who  does  not  feel  the  stim- 
ulus that  comes  to  him  from  the  fact  that 
he  holds  his  faith  in  God  with  the  world, 
who  gets  no  inspiration  from  the  fact  that 
he  holds  his  Christian  belief  in  common 
with  the  ages  of  enlightened  humanity. 

"  For  all  thy  saints  who  from  their  labor  rest, 
Who  thee  by  faith  before  the  world  confessed, 
Thy  name,  O  Jesus,  be  forever  blest. 

Allelujah ! 

"Thou  wast  their  Rock,  their  Fortress,  and  their 

Might ; 
Thou,   Lord,   their   Captain    in   the   well-fought 

fight; 

Thou,  in  the  darkness  drear,  their  Light  of  light. 

Allelujah ! " 

There  is  a  vast  inspiration  that  comes 
to  every  manly  man,  to  every  earnest  soul, 
from  the  very  fact  that  his  faith  has  been 
held  by  the  wide  world. 

Then  there  is  a  second  impulse  com- 
ing from  the  service  of  great  men.  The 

Christian 


143 

Christian  ages  have  been  adorned  by  gifts 
of  intellect  and  gifts  of  devotion  and  gifts 
of  beautiful  character,  and  the  very  fact 
that  one  holds  the  faith  that  these  men 
held  presents  an  additional  motive.  Just 
as  a  soldier  to-day  might  honor  his  calling 
more  in  remembering  that  he  follows  it  in 
common  with  the  hero  of  Marathon,  with 
Epaminondas,  with  Leonidas,  Alexander, 
Hannibal,  Cassar,  Cromwell,  Washington, 
Grant,  so  we  may  honor  our  faith  more, 
and  cling  to  it  with  greater  devotion  and 
give  it  greater  reverence,  because  it  has 
been  adorned  by  the  saintliness  and  great- 
ness and  power  of  the  world's  best  men. 
We  can  lift  up  our  hearts  in  thankfulness 
"to  Him  who  made  great  lights,  for  his 
mercy  endureth  forever." 

There  is  a  final  stimulus.  O  my  friends, 
there  are  men  in  this  community  who  do 
not  want  that  you  should  be  full  of  power, 
full  of  usefulness,  who  would  rejoice  in 
your  degradation  and  ruin.  The  very  fact 
of  the  presence  of  this  element  among 
those  who  are  spectators  of  the  struggle 
should  stimulate  to  vigilance,  to  circum- 
spection, to  prayer,  to  more  continual  and 
energetic  endeavor,  that  we  may  disap- 
point 


144 

point  the  wretched  spirits  that  would  re- 
joice in  our  ruin. 

There  is  a  kind  of  inspiration  that  comes 
in  the  spiritual  that  is  not  to  be  had  in  the 
natural  race.  You  notice  that  the  writer 
says  "looking  unto  Jesus,  the  author  and 
finisher  of  our  faith."  He  stands  at  the 
goal,  and  his  mighty  presence  is  the  heav- 
enly and  divine  stimulus.  We  are  to  take 
our  faith  with  its  idea  of  discipline,  with 
its  idea  of  self-denial,  with  its  idea  of  self- 
exertion.  We  are  to  take  the  stimulus 
that  comes  from  the  world  at  large  who 
hold  this  faith,  and  from  the  eminent  men 
who  have  graced  and  adorned  it,  and  from 
the  presence  of  those  who  would  corrupt 
and  destroy  it,  if  they  could.  And,  in 
addition  to  all  that,  we  are  to  look  to  our 
Divine  Master,  to  his  divine  personality; 
and  in  the  magnetic  power,  in  the  inciting 
influence,  in  the  stimulating  might  that 
comes  from  him,  we  are  to  run  the  race 
that  is  set  before  us.  How  did  he  run 
his  race  ?  He  ran  it  with  patience,  and 
he  accepted  the  cross,  despising  the  shame 
because  of  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him ; 
and  he  has  taken  his  place  at  the  right 
hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high.  He  offers 

to 


145 

to  us  a  crown  more  beautiful  than  the 
garlands  which  the  victor's  brow  received 
in  the  contests  of  old. 

Let  us  set  our  hearts  upon  the  highest; 
and  let  us,  in  the  strength  of  the  highest, 
press  on  to  the  highest. 


XVIII. 
THE   EYE  OF   GOD. 


WHATEVER  relation  there  may  be 
between  us  and  the  inferior  ani- 
mals, we  find  in  them  the  types  of  human- 
ity. Three  types  seem  to  be  referred  to 
here.  There  are  the  beasts  that  are  not 
held  in,  and  perhaps  cannot  be.  There 
are  those  which  are  made  serviceable  and 
held  in  the  right  way  by  careful  guid- 
ance and  constraint,  like  the  horse  and 
mule,  with  bit  and  bridle.  There  are 
those  like  the  dog  of  noble  breed,  that 
looks  into  his  master's  eye  and  takes  his 
direction  from  that  eye,  and  knows  with- 
out voice  or  gesture  whither  his  master 
would  have  him  go  and  what  his  master 
would  have  him  do.  There  are  corre- 
sponding types  among  men.  There  are 
those  whom  we  deem  incorrigible.  I  do 
not  believe  that  they  are  so.  I  do  not 

believe 


of  45oD.  147 

believe  that  any  human  being  is  incorrigi- 
ble by  the  might  and  love  of  the  Creator, 
or  will  be  incorrigible  when  that  might 
and  love  are  incarnated  as  they  ought  to 
be  and  will  be  one  day  in  the  Church  of 
Christ.  There  are  those  who  will  go  right, 
who  will  do  what  they  ought  to  do,  by  the 
help  of  the  bit  and  the  bridle.  They  need 
the  restraint  and  guidance  of  rule  and 
law.  There  are  those  whom  the  eye  of 
God  guides, —  not  that  they  are  above  law, 
not  that  they  set  aside  law,  but  what  the 
mere  legal  servants  do  because  they  are 
afraid  not  to  do  it,  these  do  because  they 
love  to  do  it. 

The  eye  of  God !  We  believe  in  God, 
but  not  as  if  he  were  only  in  the  past  or 
in  heaven.  He  is  not  in  the  creeds  and 
catechisms  or  in  the  Bible,  but  here  and 
everywhere,  now  and  always,  with  you 
and  me.  His  eye  is  upon  our  ways,  upon 
our  souls ;  and  we  may  look  into  that  eye. 
We  know,  or  may  know,  on  what  that  eye 
rests  with  pleasure,  on  what  it  rests  with 
pity,  on  what  it  rests  with  condemnation  ; 
and  we  can,  if  we  will,  always  do  the 
things  that  please  him,  and  can  make  his 
good  pleasure  our  constant  motive,  our 

rule 


148 

rule  of  duty,  our  reason  for  doing  and  for 
not  doing,  and  still  more,  for  being  and 
for  not  being.  We  can  shape  ourselves 
under  the  eye  of  God  as  he  would  have 
us.  His  eye,  we  know,  rests  with  pleas- 
ure on  all  that  rightfully  gives  us  pleasure ; 
on  all  the  bright  and  happy  and  festive 
side  of  life ;  on  all  that  refreshes  and 
recreates ;  on  all  that  can  give  us  new 
strength  for  duty,  or  can  bind  more  closely 
the  bonds  of  family,  kindred  or  friendship; 
on  all  that  gives  joy  to  which  there  can 
be  no  counterpoise  of  regret  or  sorrow. 
In  everything  which  makes  us  happy,  let 
us  feel  doubly  glad  if  it  is  under  our 
Father's  eye,  if  we  are  following  the  direc- 
tion of  that  eye  in  the  pursuit  of  fit  pleas- 
ures and  enjoyments,  and  especially  in 
the  diffusion  of  pleasure  and  enjoyment 
among  those  whom  he  would  have  us 
make  happy ;  for  he  would  have  us  min- 
isters of  gladness,  joy-givers,  even  as  he 
himself  is  the  universal  joy-giver. 

But  how  does  he  look  on  those  slight 
beginnings  of  moral  wrong  and  evil,  on 
those  first  timid,  tentative  steps  in  the 
way  of  transgression, —  the  beginnings,  in 
which  he  sees,  as  we  are  prone  not  to  see, 

the 


of  <0oo,  149 

the  bitter  ending  or  no  ending, —  the  first 
steps  which,  in  his  eye,  are  steps  down  a 
declivity  that  will  lead  to  utter  ruin  ?  Oh, 
if  we  could  read  the  glance  of  that  all- 
seeing  eye  on  those  early  turnings  aside 
from  purity  and  soberness  and  right ;  if 
we  could  feel  the  infinite  pity  with  which 
he  regards  what  seem  to  us  but  slight 
misdoings, —  we  should  dread  the  first 
steps,  the  first  thoughts,  above  all,  the 
first  heart-movements  in  the  way  of  wrong 
and  evil.  Let  us  then,  whenever  there  is 
any  such  movement  of  soul  or  thought, 
feel  the  divine  pity  resting  on  us, — a  pity 
rising  from  the  assurance  of  what  these 
things  will  surely  issue  in,  what  they  in- 
evitably tend  to,  and  must  necessarily 
produce. 

In  our  social  relations,  let  us  take  God's 
view.  He,  we  believe,  looks  with  equal 
eye  on  all,  has  love  and  kindness  and 
long-suffering  for  those  with  whom  we  are 
prone  to  be  impatient,  looks  with  tender- 
ness where  we  are  prone  to  anger  and 
resentment,  has  unchanging  love  where 
we  are  prone  to  be  influenced  by  differ- 
ence of  opinion  or  party  feeling  or  dissen- 
sion, and  to  look  with  jealousy,  suspicion, 

and 


150 

and  dislike.  Would  we  only  endeavor  to 
take  God's  view  of  those  among  whom  we 
dwell,  and  among  whom  our  daily  inter- 
course lies,  how  gentle,  how  patient,  how 
earnest  in  all  good  works  and  kind  offices, 
how  averse  from  everything  that  could 
give  offence,  should  we  be!  How  would 
our  social  lives  be  refined,  filled  with  love 
and  mercy,  bearing  peaceful  and  blessed 
fruits ! 

In  fine,  as  regards  the  whole  way  of 
duty,  if  we  look  upon  it  as  something 
which  we  are  forced  to  do  because  we  are 
afraid  not  to  do  it,  if  we  look  upon  virtue 
as  a  constraint,  and  upon  conscience  as  a 
hard  master,  we  may  be  kept  from  evil; 
but  we  shall  lose  all  the  joy  that  there  is 
in  right-doing.  But  if  in  our  own  con- 
sciousness the  eye  of  God  directs  us  in 
our  daily  ways,  and  rests  on  those  paths 
in  which  he  would  have  us  go,  then  those 
are  ways  of  joy, — of  ever-increasing  joy, 
of  a  joy  which  shall  wax  fuller  and  fuller, 
until  it  shall  have  its  consummation  in  his 
more  intimate  presence,  when  we  shall 
see  him,  as  it  were,  face  to  face. 

The  eye  of  God!  We  have  what  may 
bring  that  eye  very  close  to  us  in  him 

who 


of  <$o&.  151 

who  bore  God's  image, —  in  him  in  whose 
humanity  we  behold  all  of  the  divine  that 
can  exist  in  human  form.  I  think  that  we 
all  know  how  Christ,  if  he  were  on  earth, 
would  walk  among  us,  on  what  his  eye 
would  rest  with  love,  with  approval,  with 
pity,  with  condemnation ;  and  we  may  fol- 
low him.  And,  if  we  follow  him,  we  are 
walking  with  God.  If  we  live  as  we  know 
he  would  have  us  live;  if  we  make  his 
presence  as  we  have  it  in  the  sacred  rec- 
ord, a  real  presence  to  us,  and  think  that 
he  is  really  walking  among  us,  as  he  is  in 
spirit  and  in  his  undying  love, —  I  am  sure 
that  the  eye  of  God  in  Christ  will  make 
and  keep  us  as  God  would  have  us.  I  do 
wish  that  all  controversy  with  regard  to 
Christ  could  be  merged  in  the  one  thought 
of  his  divine  humanity,  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God  with  us  in  that  humanity. 
Oh,  if  we  will  but  follow  him,  if  we  will 
but  make  him  our  way  and  truth  and  life, 
we  shall  know  him  as  we  can  in  no  other 
way.  We  shall  know  him  as  we  should 
not  know  him,  had  we  the  eye  of  omnis- 
cience for  what  we  call  his  nature  and  his 
offices.  The  only  worthy  way  in  which 
we  can  know  him  is  by  following  him,  by 

looking 


152  J?arijarti 

looking  into  his  eye,  and  making  that  our 
director  in  life.  Thus  to  know  him  is 
blessedness  here  on  earth  :  thus  to  know 
him  is  life  everlasting.  This  gives  us 
guidance  day  by  day.  This  knits  our 
spirit  unto  his  spirit.  May  God  guide  us 
by  his  eye,  and  lead  us  on  and  up  to  that 
home  in  heaven  where  that  eye  shall  ever 
rest  on  us,  as  our  eyes  shall  be  ever  turned 
to  him ! 


XIX. 

GOD    IS    A   SPIRIT. 

JOHN  iv. 

GOD  is  a  spirit,  man  is  a  spirit.  This 
is  the  rational  basis  of  religion.  It 
is  in  practical  recognition  of  this  truth 
that  throughout  this  land  and  in  other 
lands  thousands  of  devout  men  and  women 
have  this  day  entered  into  communion 
with  the  Father  of  their  spirit,  spirit  with 
spirit,  in  spirit  and  truth,  supplicating 
God  that  he  would  give  his  presence  and 
favor  to  our  schools  and  colleges.  This 
is  a  witness  of  how  closely  our  schools  are 
bound  up  with  the  hope  of  the  home,  of 
the  church,  and  of  all  who  love  their  kind 
and  serve  their  God.  Surely  here,  where 
the  very  ground  beneath  us  has  been  hal- 
lowed by  the  feet,  by  the  knees  of  the 
best  men  the  world  has  seen,  where  our 
charter  is  emblazoned  in  our  windows, 
where  the  very  air  is  full  of  supplication 

which 


154 

which  has  never  ceased  for  more  than 
two  hundred  and  fifty  years, —  here  we, 
who  are  the  sons  of  our  fathers,  may  well 
bow  before  him,  and  pray  that  as  God 
was  with  the  fathers  so  he  will  be  with 
the  children.  This  is  fitting.  It  is  more 
than  fitting.  It  is  possible ;  and  it  is 
partly  as  an  illustration  of  the  truth  which 
our  Lord  spoke,  sitting  on  the  low  curb 
of  the  well  of  Samaria,  that  I  bring  it  to 
your  thoughts  at  this  time.  It  has  its 
own  weight  and  merit  to  commend  it,  but 
it  illustrates  in  an  impressive  manner  the 
truth  which  Jesus  taught.  For,  if  a  man 
can  draw  near  enough  to  God  to  worship 
him,  he  can  come  near  enough  for  any- 
thing. He  can  enter  in  the  fullest  way 
into  relationship  with  him, —  the  relation- 
ship of  a  child  with  the  father,  out  of 
which  we  wander,  but  to  which  he  per- 
sistently recalls  us.  When  we  shall  learn 
this  truth  and  believe  in  it,  or  rather 
when  it  shall  believe  in  us,  and  shall  be- 
come part  of  our  truth  and  part  of  our 
life,  then  there  shall  come  that  wonder- 
ful enlargement  of  our  whole  being,  that 
broadening  of  our  horizon,  that  deepening 
of  our  thought,  that  uplifting  of  our  pur- 
pose, 


fif  a  Spirit.  155 

pose,  which  will  make  us  feel  how  great 
and  holy  a  thing  it  is  to  live. 

Think  for  a  moment.  It  is  possible  for 
us  because  we  are  spirit,  just  as  God  is 
spirit,  to  have  intercourse  with  him,  to 
talk  to  him,  to  listen  to  his  voice.  Nay, 
this  is  more  than  possible.  It  is  per- 
mitted to  us,  it  is  required  of  us,  not  by 
precept  or  commandment  alone,  but  by 
the  instinctive  craving  of  the  child  for 
his  father's  presence  and  love.  In  the 
commonest  things  of  life,  in  the  greatest 
things  of  life  when  the  crisis  comes  to  us, 
at  the  strategic  moments  of  our  life,  we 
can  come  to  him  for  counsel,  for  wisdom 
which  is  never  denied,  never  grudgingly 
bestowed,  but  bountifully  given  to  any 
one  who  seeks.  We  are  pushed  along 
beyond  all  that  men  can  do,  and  all  that 
men,  of  themselves,  can  be,  when  our 
spirit  is  truly  in  his  spirit.  There  are 
wise  counsellors,  kind  friends,  generous 
instructors ;  but 

"  What  are  they  all  in  their  high  conceit, 
When  man  in  the  bush  with  God  may  meet?" 

Think,  again,  that  this  spiritual  life 
is  ours  as  it  is  God's,  and  ours  because 

it 


i5<5 

it  is  God's,  and  that  it  may  be  continually 
strengthened,  re-enforced,  out  of  the  spirit 
which  God  is ;  that  our  life  is  but  so 
much  of  GoJ's  life,  incarnate  within  these 
human  limitations.  It  is  so  much  of  the 
life  of  God,  unbroken  between  him  and 
us,  as  a  ray  of  light  is  unbroken  through 
its  ninety  millions  of  miles  from  the  sun 
above  us  to  the  glass  by  which  we  shatter 
it  into  its  separate  splendors.  We  can 
ascend  along  this  line  of  life  to  him  as 
he  comes  by  this  line  of  life  to  us.  If 
that  wonderful  thought  of  our  having 
God's  life  possesses  us,  we  shall  rise  to 
live  with  him.  For  think  of  this  again, 
that  it  is  possible  for  us  to  take  God's  life 
and,  in  our  measure,  to  live  it  here  among 
men,  though  we  cannot  do  it  by  ourselves. 
We  can  do  it  each  in  his  separate  place 
and  in  his  separate  opportunities,  not  by 
standing  apart  from  him,  and  doing  what 
we  wish,  but  by  living  in  him  and  doing 
what  he  wishes.  It  is  as  if  he  divided 
the  work  he  would  have  done  in  the 
world,  and  allotted  to  each  man  his  por- 
tion. There  has  been  one  instance  of 
faith  in  the  world,  one  that  towers  above 
all  others,  when  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 

committed 


<0oD  is  a  Spirit*  157 

committed  into  the  hands  of  eleven  men 
the  work  which  had  brought  him  into  the 
world,  and  gave  them  their  commission, 
to  go  into  all  the  earth  "even  so"  as  he 
was  sent  into  the  world,  and  to  be  wit- 
nesses to  the  truth  and  life  of  God.  The 
eleven  have  been  multiplied  to  thousands. 
Yet  it  is  only  when  we  place  our  thought 
in  his  thought,  and  set  our  personal  in- 
complete lives  in  his  life,  when  we  take 
our  part  of  God's  purposes  and  change  it 
into  our  conduct  and  establish  it  in  our 
purposes,  that  we  do  the  work  which  it 
is  given  us  to  do.  When  we  pray  "  Thy 
kingdom  come,  thy  will  be  done,"  we 
are  not  praying  for  the  conversion  of  the 
Gentiles  so  much  as  for  the  little  kingdom 
over  which  we  rule,  that  it  may  become 
the  kingdom  of  our  God  and  be  governed 
by  his  guidance,  that  his  protection  may 
be  our  safety  and  his  glory  our  honor. 
We  rise  into  this  high  and  holy  life  with 
the  divine  spirit,  our  spirit  with  his  spirit, 
only  as  we  learn  to  know  this  simple,  nat- 
ural, eternal  truth  :  that,  as  God  is  spirit, 
man  is  spirit,  and  man  can  worship  God 
in  spirit  and  in  truth. 

But   why  do   we   divide   these    things  ? 

Do 


158 

Do  we  not  need  to  unite  our  life,  and  give 
to  it  one  meaning  and  intent  ?  Do  we 
not  need  to  bring  all  our  powers  into  one 
power  and  all  our  plans  into  one  plan  ? 
But  where  shall  they  be  united  ?  Never 
anywhere,  never  completely  at  any  time, 
save  as  they  are  united  within  the  thought 
and  desire  of  God.  When  a  man  knows 
what  God  will  have  him  do,  he  knows  the 
extreme  possibilities  of  his  being.  When 
a  man  is  doing  what  God  would  have  him 
do,  he  is  doing  the  best  which  it  is  possible 
for  him  to  do.  God's  purposes  are  mar- 
vellously fitted  to  our  possibilities.  When 
one  comes  to  feel  all  this,  to  break  with 
himself  and  break  with  the  world,  not  be- 
cause the  world  is  not  kind  and  good,  but 
because  God  is  the  All-wise,  the  Eternal, 
the  Almighty,  then  there  comes  this  trans- 
formation. No  change  from  the  darkness 
of  night  into  the  glory  of  morning,  no 
change  from  the  barrenness  of  winter  into 
the  life  and  beauty  of  spring,  is  so  great  as 
the  change  of  the  man's  life  when,  raising 
his  own  thought,  he  has  God's  thought, 
when  God's  spirit  breathes  through  his 
faculties,  expressing  itself  in  his  energies, 
embodied  in  his  purposes.  Whatever  the 

path 


10  a  Spirit.  159 

path  before  him  be,  it  is  the  path  that 
leads  upward,  beyond  the  splendid  stars. 
O  brethren,  let  us  say  it  over  and  over 
to  ourselves  until  we  fully  believe  and 
know  it,  and,  knowing  it,  live  in  it, —  let 
us  say  it  over  and  over  till  it  sinks  down 
into  the  mind  and  becomes  part  of  the 
very  tissue  of  our  being.  God  is  a  spirit. 
I  am  a  spirit.  I  can  talk  with  him.  I  can 
hear  him,  I  can  live  by  God's  wisdom,  I 
can  be  strengthened  by  God's  strength. 
I  can  glorify  God  on  the  earth.  I  can  lift 
my  little  system  up  into  his  great  system, 
and  find  my  success  in  his  accomplish- 
ment, and  the  honor  of  my  life  in  that 
honor  which  for  himself  he  has  fore- 
ordained. This  is  to  live.  Not  until  we 
have  found  this  have  we  found  the  begin- 
ning of  life.  Not  until  we  have  come  to 
this  have  we  come  to  God.  It  is  so  sim- 
ple, but  so  grand,  real,  and  divine, —  here 
on  the  earth,  yet  reaching  to  the  heaven 
of  heavens !  Then  shall  we  make  our 
career,  our  intentions,  our  successes,  "not 
after  the  law  of  a  carnal  commandment, 
but  after  the  power  of  an  endless  life." 


XX. 

THE   SIMPLICITY  WHICH   IS   IN 
CHRIST. 

[On  the  day  of  the  funeral  of  Asa  Gray.] 

IT  is  but  a  few  hours  since  many  of  us 
were  gathered  here  at  the  funeral  of 
a  great  man.  He  was,  beyond  dispute, 
the  most  widely  known  of  all  our  schol- 
ars,— -not  alone  in  the  circles  of  highest 
learning  throughout  the  world,  but  in  the 
still  larger  circle  of  popular  interest  and 
modest  studies.  It  is  impossible  to  turn 
to  any  thought  this  afternoon  but  one 
associated  with  his  memory.  This  is  not 
the  time  for  any  analysis  of  his  greatness  ; 
but  it  is  a  time  to  pause  for  a  moment  in 
the  midst  of  our  varied  and  absorbing  pur- 
suits, and  consider  what  it  was  that  gave 
this  greatness  its  peculiar  charm. 

When  I  try  to  strike  the  note  of  this 
gracious  character,  one  Bible  verse  keeps 
repeating  itself  in  my  mind.  It  is  the 

appeal 


&tntpltdtg  toljiclj  10  in  Christ,  161 

appeal  of  Paul  to  his  brethren,  that  their 
minds  should  not  be  "corrupted  from 
the  simplicity  that  is  in  Christ."  What 
gave  this  great  man  of  science  an  almost 
unique  power  over  students,  fellow-scien- 
tists, neighbors,  and  friends,  was  the  im- 
pression of  his  single-mindedness  and  his 
simplicity,  a  peculiar  childlikeness  and 
guilelessness  and  naturalness  of  mind, — 
traits  which,  in  these  days  of  pretentious 
learning  and  inflated  self-assertion,  seem 
almost  inconsistent  with  greatness.  He 
was  a  man  of  the  beatitudes  and  of  the 
childlike  temper.  No  one  could  come  into 
any  relation  with  this  life  without  this 
impression  of  its  simplicity.  It  was  the 
quality  that  gave  lucidity  to  his  literary 
style,  straightforwardness  to  his  scientific 
controversies,  singleness  of  mind  to  his 
pursuit,  and  humility  and  reverence  to  his 
religion. 

And  now,  we  ask  ourselves,  what  is  it 
that,  in  the  growth  of  learning  and  reputa- 
tion, can  keep  a  man  in  this  uncorrupted 
simplicity  ?  How  is  it  that  a  man  is  not 
ensnared  in  his  own  greatness,  so  as  to 
grow  artificial,  self-important,  and  without 
simplicity  ?  Evidently,  if  a  man  is  think- 
ing 


1 62  J£artoart) 

ing  of  himself  and  his  career,  of  his  repu- 
tation and  of  his  results,  and  if  thus  the 
world  of  his  thought  revolves  around  him- 
self, he  cannot  have  this  endowment  of 
simplicity.  For  the  largest  thing  which 
concerns  him  is  himself;  and  the  magni- 
tude of  that  centre  of  his  system  must 
show  itself  in  pretence,  affectation,  and 
self-esteem.  But  that  which  gives  a  man 
simplicity  is  the  discovery  of  ends  and 
motives  infinitely  larger  than  himself, — 
the  sense  of  unattained  truth,  mysterious 
and  compelling,  and  making  all  the  truth 
thus  far  attained  seem  insignificant ;  the 
sense  of  duty,  great  and  overshadowing, 
which  makes  the  duty  thus  far  done  seem 
slight  and  insufficient.  Once  let  these 
great  ideals  get  control  of  life,  and  all  the 
sense  of  self-importance  and  attainment 
drops  away.  It  is  like  a  planet,  which 
thought  itself  great,  and  found  in  itself 
the  centre  of  its  orbit,  and  then  became 
aware  of  a  larger  centre  round  which  its 
smaller  life  naturally  revolved.  It  is  the 
transition  from  what  we  may  call  the  Ptol- 
emaic to  what  we  may  call  the  Copernican 
view  of  life, —  the  discovery  of  the  great 
ideas  and  great  ends  toward  which  the 

single 


Simplicity?  toljicl)  in  in  Christ.  163 

single  mind  was  meant  to  gravitate.  Now, 
that  is  what  makes  greatness  humble  and 
simple.  To  live  in  the  presence  of  great 
truths,  to  be  dealing  with  eternal  laws,  to 
be  led  by  permanent  ideals, —  that  is  what 
keeps  a  man  patient  when  the  world  ig- 
nores him,  and  calm  and  unspoiled  when 
the  world  praises  him.  It  is  the  discovery 
of  the  relative  magnitude  of  things.  That 
which  is  known  or  done  seems  much  to 
those  who  look.at  it,  but  it  seems  little  to 
him  whose  eyes  are  fixed  on  the  completed 
truth  and  the  perfect  system. 

So  it  was  with  this  man  who  passes 
from  among  us  to-day.  He  was  reverent 
and  unspoiled,  because  he  lived  in  the 
presence  of  great  ends.  He  had  simplic- 
ity, because  he  had  no  other  ends  to  gain. 
Simplicity  means  straightforwardness ;  and 
a  life  is  straightforward  when  it  sees  a 
commanding  end  of  life,  and  moves  toward 
it.  If  there  are  many  competing  ends, 
then  life  is  complex.  If  the  end  of  life 
and  work  is  clear  and  commanding,  then 
life  is  made  simple.  Thus  it  was  with  this 
great  teacher.  He  knew  to  how  great  an 
end  he  had  given  himself,  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  that  end  there  was  nothing  nat- 
ural 


1 64  tt>artoara 

ural  for  him  but  humility  and  simplicity. 
Three  years  ago,  he  said  to  me  that  at 
seventy-five  a  man  came  to  the  happiest 
time  of  his  life,  "because  there  were  so 
many  things  of  which  he  could  afford  to 
be  ignorant."  More  and  more  clear,  that 
is  to  say,  the  end  of  his  life  had  grown  to 
him;  and  it  simplified  all  his  living. 

Let  us  take  this  law  of  Irfe  as  it  thus 
speaks  to  us  to-day.  It  is  not  only  that 
the  chief  grace  of  greatness  is  its  simplic- 
ity, but  it  is  that  the  way  of  simplicity  is 
by  single-minded  devotion  to  great  ends. 
If  any  man  among  us,  old  or  young,  wants 
to  keep  his  spirit  as  a  little  child,  and  de- 
sires to  outgrow  all  intellectual  conceits 
and  academic  flippancy  and  self-sufficiency, 
there  is  but  one  way  to  do  it.  It  is  the 
way  of  devotion  to  truths  and  duties  and 
aims,  in  the  presence  of  which  you  are 
necessarily  humbled  in  your  weakness  and 
ignorance.  What  makes  a  man  conceited 
and  artificial  and  self-asserting  is  that  he 
has  not  discovered  the  proportions  of 
things.  It  is  not  his  knowledge  which 
puffs  him  up  :  it  is  his  ignorance.  It  is 
not  his  superiority  and  maturity  of  mind  : 
it  is  the  mark  of  his  ignorance  and  imma- 
turity. 


£>implidt£  toljiclj  isf  in  Christ.  165 

turity.  He  has  discovered  himself,  but 
not  that  to  which  he  has  given  himself. 
He  is  like  a  nebula  just  coming  into  shape 
as  a  planet,  but  has  not  yet  discovered  the 
system  where  his  orbit  is  to  be  found. 
The  great  transition  of  any  thoughtful  life 
is  when  it  passes  thus  from  the  way  of 
self-culture  into  the  way  of  service,  and 
finds  a  centre  of  truth  or  of  duty  to  which 
it  may  commit  itself.  Then  it  is  that 
single-mindedness,  •seriousness,  humility, 
simplicity,  enter  into  life. 

Finally,  let  us  see  this  same  devotion  to 
high  ends,  which  simplified  this  man's  in- 
tellectual life,  acting  with  the  same  clear- 
ness in  his  religion.  How  beautiful  and 
helpful  it  was  to  those  who  care  about 
religion  to  have  this  man  for  their  ally 
I  need  not  say.  No  attendant  was  more 
devoted  to  this  chapel,  no  hearer  more 
sympathetic,  no  adviser  more  generous. 
The  simplicity  of  his  religion  was  like  the 
simplicity  of  his  mind.  It  was  the  simple 
discovery  of  a  centre  of  life  larger  than 
his  own  will,  to  which  he  might  freely  give 
himself.  It  was  the  simplicity  "  that  is  in 
Christ."  The  natural  motion  of  his  soul 
drew  it  to  that  centre  of  the  Christian 

system. 


1 66  l^arbartj 

system.  Ah!  If  religion  could  but  offer 
itself  to  us  all  in  this  simple,  uncompli- 
cated, straightforward  way !  What  is  it 
that  you  want  in  the  perplexities  and  dis- 
tractions of  your  life,  in  its  temptations 
and  ambitions,  its  varied  hopes  and  fears  ? 
You  want  to  be  drawn  out  of  the  control 
of  all  these  diverse  passions  into  the  power 
of  the  supreme  centre  which  gathers  up 
your  life  into  a  system  instead  of  leaving 
it  as  a  chaos.  That  ce.nt.re  of  life  is  what 
God  is  to  the  soul ;  it  is  what  Christ  is 
to  the  Christian. 

"  Sun  of  my  soul,  thou  Saviour  dear," 

says_the  hymn,  with  scientific  accuracy. 
Just  as  the  worlds  of  nature  are  drawn  by 
the  sun,  so  the  natural  life  of  man  feels 
the  power  of  spiritual  attraction,  and  hears 
that  word  of  the  Master,  "  If  I  be  lifted 
up  from  the  earth,  I  will  draw  all  men 
unto  me." 

Such  is  the  simplicity  that  is  in  Christ. 
It  discovers  its  own  smallness,  because  it 
has  discovered  that  which  is  great.  Its 
faith  makes  it  humble.  The  vision  of 
Christ,  like  the  sense  of  scientific  truth, 
drives  away  all  self-sufficiency  and  all  self- 
conceit, 


SCfte  Simplicity  tot)icl)  is;  in  Christ.  167 

conceit,  and  leaves  the  spirit  of  the  little 
child.  When  we  see  this  in  the  life  of  a 
great  man  of  science,  we  see  that  which 
gives  greatness  its  completed  charm  ;  but 
it  is  no  less  true  a  teaching,  for  every  man 
among  us,  that,  however  far  from  great 
his  life  must  be,  the  charm  of  simplicity 
comes  to  all  by  the  way  of  faith. 

It  is  the  greatness  of  truth  which  keeps 
men  humble.  It  is  the  sense  of  God  that 
will  save  you  from  the  sense  of  self.  It 
is  your  loyalty  to  a  Christian  end  of  life 
which  will  set  you  free  and  keep  you  pure, 
and  finally  make  you  remembered  among 
men  as  witnesses  of  the  simplicity  which 
is  in  Christ. 


XXI. 

FISHERS    OF   MEN. 

MATT.  iv.  19,  20. 

I  HAVE  read  to  you  the  beginning  and 
the  end  of  this  chapter.  It  seems  to 
me  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  read  the 
two  without  feeling  that  they  belong  to- 
gether. Christ  in  the  glory  of  his  youth 
goes  up  on  the  mountain,  and  undergoes 
that  temptation  in  which  he  becomes  con- 
scious of  his  powers.  The  education  of 
Jesus,  the  gradual  development  of  his  self- 
consciousness,  and  the  opening  before  him 
of  the  purpose  of  his  life  are  very  clearly 
given  in  the  Gospels.  And  then  we  see 
Christ  coming  down  from  the  mountain 
clear  and  distinct  in  the  purpose  before 
him.  He  goes  to  meet  men.  We  can 
see  something  of  the  discontent  which 
comes  into  his  face  as  he  looks  upon  them, 
and  sees  how  they  use  the  capabilities  and 
unfolding  powers  which  he  has  just  learned 

are 


of  spen.  169 


are  to  be  consecrated  to  the  highest  uses. 
There  must  be  something  of  that  feeling 
as  he  comes  to  summon  Simon  and  his 
brother,  casting  their  nets  into  the  sea, 
and  says  to  them  those  marvellous  words, 
"  Follow  me,  and  I  will  make  you  fishers 
of  men."  Surely,  there  is  something  more 
here  than  the  simple  method  of  summon- 
ing these  men  to  come  and  do  the  work 
that  Christ  was  going  to  give  them.  We 
see  in  the  face  of  Jesus,  as  he  looks  upon 
these  young  men,  not  a  particle  of  con- 
tempt of  their  manhood,  no  conception  of 
their  humanity  as  though  it  were  made 
for  low  uses.  There  is  always  with  Jesus 
a  sense  of  the  mystery  of  human  life,  a 
sense  of  its  powers,  of  what  it  is  capable 
of  doing.  And,  when  he  suggests  in  these 
words  the  analogy  between  the  work  which 
these  men  had  been  doing  and  the  work 
which  they  were  to  do,  there  is  a  hint  of 
his  whole  way  of  looking  at  human  life. 
Those  same  powers  that  they  were  using 
on  the  waters  of  Galilee  were  to  be  used 
in  all  the  labor  which  they  were  to  exer- 
cise for  Christ.  He  found  them  fisher- 
men ;  and  the  same  powers  which  they 
were  using,  the  carefulness,  the  watchful- 

ness, 


1 70  ^arbarD 

ness,  the  hopefulness,  which  were  needed 
in  their  ordinary  trade,  were  to  go  into 
the  higher  life  which  they  were  to  live, 
and  to  be  exercised  there.  Is  not,  then, 
the  suggestion  of  these  words  this :  that 
the  power  which  man  is  using  in  the 
lowest  uses  is  the  same  -power  which  he 
is  to  use  in  the  highest?  What  God  sum- 
mons him  to  is  the  full  use  of  himself, 
the  entire  consecration,  the  entire  devel- 
opment, and  so  the  perfect  activity  of  the 
powers  which  he  is  already  using.  There 
are  no  new  powers  needed  to  complete  the 
work  of  the  world.  God  gives  a  man  no 
powers  that  were  not  in  him  before;  but 
he  takes  those  which  the  man  was  using 
for  lower  purposes,  and  consecrates  them 
and  makes  them  a  capacity  of  glory  and 
richness  and  power  which  he  can  never 
begin  to  guess.  If  it  were  not  thus,  there 
would  be  no  power  in  the  will  of  man  to 
call  upon  him  to  stand  upon  his  feet  and 
do  the  full  work  of  a  man.  If  it  were  not 
so,  there  could  be  no  cry  of  man  to  God. 
We  do  not  ask  him  to  make  us  different 
from  what  we  have  been.  We  ask  him 
to  make  us  thoroughly  ourselves.  All  this 
seems  to  be  involved  in  th  ;  words  of  Jesus. 

See 


of  $en,  171 


See  how  it  is  with  the  peculiar  powers 
of  our  lives.  Take  the  power  of  admira- 
tion. We  are  forever  wasting  it  upon 
those  things  which  are  utterly  unworthy, 
upon  those  things  which  are  fictitious  in 
their  value,  which  are  false  in  themselves; 
and,  when  the  man  lifts  himself  up  and 
uses  the  same  power  of  admiration,  only 
glorified  and  purified,  and  gives  his  honor 
and  praise  to  the  noblest  things,  then 
he  has  fulfilled  the  divine  side  of  his 
human  life.  Look  at  our  power  of  hatred. 
We  are  hating  the  discomforts  of  the 
world,  those  things  that  interfere  with  our 
pleasure  and  enjoyment  ;  but  the  power  of 
hatred  is  to  be  concentrated.  We  are  to 
hate  baseness  and  wickedness,  and  to  let 
our  indignation  pour  itself  out  upon  those 
things  which  are  unworthy  of  human  life. 
Think  of  the  power  of  imagination,  that 
marvellous  power  which  may  go  beyond 
the  clouds  and  enter  into  the  very  heaven 
of  heavens;  that  marvellous  power  which 
may  go  forth  into  our  own  future  and  the 
future  of  man,  and  picture  the  things 
which  the  children  of  God  are  to  possess; 
that  power  which  may  go  back  into  the 
past,  and  restore  for  us  with  its  historic 

grasp 


172 

grasp  an  image  of  the  things  which  man 
has  done  and  been.  Then  think  of  the 
foul  pictures  which  are  brought  before  our 
minds ;  think  of  the  base  conceptions  we 
cherish  of  what  it  is  to  succeed  in  life ; 
think  of  the  pictures  of  our  fellow-men 
which  we  bring  up  before  ourselves ! 
Take  these  various  powers,  our  hatreds, 
our  loves,  our  praise,  our  imagination,  and 
give  them  to  Christ,  that  he  may  purify 
them  and  that  these  marvellous  capacities 
may  become  what  they  ought  to  be. 

So  we  see  that  the  man  who  is  degraded 
and  undeveloped  must  become  in  his  high- 
est life  that  which  he  declares  possible  in 
his  lower  life.  So  it  is  with  all  the  active 
powers.  What  are  men  doing  who  are 
committing  the  divine  capacities  of  genius 
to  base  and  unholy  things,  prostituting  it 
to  low  uses,  when  these  men  have  the 
power  by  which  they  may  become  almost 
divine  themselves,  and  by  which  they  shall 
reveal  the  divine  to  man  ?  What  is  the 
painter  doing  who  brutalizes  his  art  and 
vulgarizes  it  through  his  own  mean  pas- 
sions? What  is  the  writer  doing  who  is 
prostituting  both  thought  and  language, 
and  making  them  base,  low,  and  sordid  ? 

What 


of  spni.  173 


What  is  any  man  doing  anywhere,  who  is 
using  divine  powers  for  devilish  ends  ?  Is 
he  not  reversing  that  command  of  Jesus, 
when  he  said,  "Come  up  unto  the  high- 
est" ?  What  is  the  difference  between  the 
hero  and  the  athlete  ?  The  athlete  applies 
these  wonderful  powers  of  our  bodies  to 
low  uses  :  the  hero  applies  them  to  the 
highest.  St.  Christopher  passing  before 
the  world,  and  carrying  the  Christ-child 
through  the  stream,  finds  his  strength  be- 
coming greater  and  firmer  and  richer  by 
the  burden  upon  his  shoulders.  There  is 
the  fulfilment  of  the  suggestion  of  Jesus 
Christ,  to  claim,  behind  every  capacity, 
the  power  for  its  highest  fulfilment. 

What  is  the  reason  that  we  do  not  think 
of  Jesus  as  possessing  this  and  that  spe- 
cial power,  that  we  do  not  think  of  him  in 
connection  with  strength  or  in  connection 
with  genius  ?  It  is  because  behind  every 
power  that  he  had  there  lay  this  power  of 
powers,  which  was  the  power  to  invest  all 
his  capacities  with  the  completest  conse- 
cration. The  man  enters  into  the  fulness 
of  human  life,  and  forgets  his  special  pow- 
ers in  the  consecration  of  all  of  his  powers 
to  his  Father,  and  makes  not  the  doing 

of 


of  this  thing  or  that  thing,  of  which  he 
may  be  proud  or  ashamed,  the  thing  which 
he  most  desires,  but  the  living  of  a  life 
whose  sum  and  substance  is  obedience. 

I  marvel  when  I  think  how  simple  are 
the  powers  by  which  the  great  work  is 
done  in  the  world.  I  marvel  when  I  look 
round  and  see  the  few  men  here  and  there 
using  the  simplest  powers  of  our  human 
nature, —  using  their  courage,  purity,  truth- 
fulness, kindliness, —  and  lifting  their  little 
bit  of  the  world  by  their  exercise  It 
seems  to  me  to  open  the  vast  prospect  of 
the  future  :  that  the  world  is  to  be  devel- 
oped, not  by  the  attainment  of  great  effects 
by  individuals,  not  by  striking  or  singular 
and  starlike  natures  that  are  to  shine  forth 
and  take  possession  of  the  world,  but  by 
the  consecration  of  the  smallest  powers 
everywhere;  by  the  men  who  are  fishing 
with  a  little  skill,  and  exercising  their 
power  upon  poor  material,  simply  taking 
the  finer  material  with  the  finer  impulses, 
and  doing  the  beet  that  they  can  do  with 
the  powers  that  God  has  given  them. 
This  is  the  encouragement  of  the  weakest 
among  us,  while  it  is  the  glory  of  those 
upon  whom  God  may  have  bestowed  any 
larger  powers. 

Are 


jfisljera  of  $)nt,  175 

Are  we  not  like  great  musicians  playing 
little  ditties  upon  wonderful  instruments? 
Are  we  not  like  artisans  spending  their 
time  and  tools  upon  poor  little  accomplish- 
ments, and  holding  them  up  for  the  admi- 
ration of  other  men  only  because  those 
other  men  are  not  doing  anything  greater  ? 
We  need  not  to  have  any  new  faculty  put 
into  us,  but  just  purely  and  simply  to  give 
fulfilment  to  the  faculties  we  have ;  to 
make  ourselves  capable  of  what  God  meant 
when  he  sent  us  into  the  world. 

That  is  the  contribution  which  each  one 
may  make  to  the  salvation  of  the  world. 
There  shall  never  be  given  to  us,  in  any 
celestial  glory  which  we  may  attain,  any- 
thing that  is  not  implied  in  us  now.  The 
humanity  of  heaven  shall  be  nothing  but 
the  humanity  of  carLh  lifted  to  its  full  ac- 
tivity, filled  with  the  divinest  impulses, 
made  cognizant  of  its  greatest  powers,  and 
made  ambitious  for  its  completest  work. 
God  grant  us  the  beginning  of  that  heaven 
now ! 


XXII. 

SEEK,  AND   YE   SHALL  FIND. 

MATT.  vii.  7. 

THESE  two  words  must  never  be 
put  asunder, —  seek  and  find.  The 
reason  why  so  many  people  fail  to  find 
anything  great,  anything  worthy,  any- 
thing satisfactory  in  life,  is  because  they 
do  not  seek.  There  are  gems  in  the 
world,  but  they  shine  on  the  bed  of  rivers 
and  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Those  who 
would  possess  them  must  dive  for  them. 
There  is  gold  in  the  world ;  but  it  lies  hid 
at  the  heart  of  the  earth,  and  those  who 
would  have  it  must  dig  for  it.  Some  per- 
sons will  travel  through  a  clover  field  a 
hundred  times,  and  never  find  one  with 
four  leaves.  So  there  are  people  who  go 
the  whole  round  of  experience,  who  go 
through  all  the  relationships  of  life, —  son- 
ship,  brotherhood,  citizenship,  friendship, 
and  so  on, —  never  finding  anything  un- 
common, 


,  anU  pe  sfyall  finD.        177 

common,  never  finding  anything  unusual, 
extraordinary,  or  divine.  It  is  there  just 
as  the  clover  is  there ;  but  they  do  not 
seek,  and  so  they  do  not  find.  You  re- 
member that  Saul  in  the  cave  was  so  near 
to  David  that  David  cut  a  piece  from  his 
robe,  and  yet  Saul  did  not  know  it.  On 
another  occasion,  Saul  was  so  near  to 
David  that  David  drew  his  spear  and 
planted  it  at  the  king's  head,  and  the  king 
did  not  know  it.  So  it  seems  to  me  men 
are  just  thus  near  to  the  peril  and  the  pos- 
sibility of  life,  just  thus  near  to  the  degra- 
dation that  may  be  avoided,  to  the  dignity 
that  may  be  won,  and  are  all  the  while 
unconscious  of  it.  They  read  the  Lord's 
word  thus :  They  who  do  not  seek  shall 
find.  But  thus  it  is  not  written.  Seek 
and  find  are  bound  together,  and  must 
never  be  separated. 

How  reasonable  it  is  that  such  advice 
should  come  to  us  standing  on  the  very 
threshold  of  our  life !  For  consider  a  mo- 
ment what  a  complicated  thing  it  is, — 
body,  mind,  soul  ;  material,  intellectual, 
spiritual ;  appetites,  desires,  reason,  affec- 
tion, conscience,  will,  and  all  the  number- 
less relationships  of  life  that  grow  out  of 

this 


178  H?ariJari) 

this  composite  individuality.  Life  is  an 
intricate,  complicated  thing ;  and  all  sorts 
of  wrong  views  prevail  as  to  it.  Now,  in 
order  to  find  the  true  view,  the  adequate 
view,  the  view  which  will  support  a  man 
in  life  and  on  which  he  can  rest  his  head 
in  death,  is  it  not  reasonable  that  for  this 
view  he  should  seek  studiously,  honestly, 
devoutly,  and  with  all  his  heart  ? 

You  remember  that  in  Tennyson's  "  Vi- 
sion of  Sin  "  he  speaks  of  a  youth  who 
came  to  the  palace  gate :  — 

"  He  rode  a  horse  with  wings,  that  would  have 

flown, 
Rut  that  his  heavy  rider  kept  him  down." 

What  does  that  mean  ?  The  youth  was 
drawn  to  the  palace  of  pleasure  by  social 
instinct,  by  the  energies  and  impulses  of 
his  human  heart ;  and  these,  but  for  his 
evil  purpose,  but  for  his  base  interpreta- 
tion of  them,  would  have  borne  him  aloft 
into  the  heaven  of  chivalrous  feeling,  rev- 
erence for  his  kind,  exalted  sentiment,  and 
noble  service.  But  his  misinterpretation, 
his  base  construction  of  his  nature,  his 
evil  purpose  and  design,  made  that  which 
otherwise  would  have  been  of  the  heaven, 

heavenly, 


,  anU  i?e  tfljall  fint).        179 

heavenly,  of  the  earth,  earthy,  and  turned 
him  into  the  sneerer  at  virtue,  the  unbe- 
liever in  goodness,  the  unhappy  and  loath- 
some wretch  that  he  became.  We  are 
drawn  into  the  great  life  in  which  we  live 
by  the  power  of  our  instincts,  and  we  do 
not  know  ourselves  as  we  may.  We  are 
in  danger  of  putting  a  wrong  interpreta- 
tion on  this  imperious  nature  which  we 
possess,  and  we  need  to  seek  in  order  to 
find  that  interpretation  which  shall  give 
wings  to  our  instincts  and  set  them  free. 

It  is  reasonable,  also,  to  take  to  heart 
our  Lord's  words,  "  Seek,  and  ye  shall 
find,"  because  he  delivers  them  on  the 
authority  of  a  great  moral  teacher,  the 
world's  teacher,  the  divine  teacher.  For 
consider  that  every  student  goes,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  on  the  ipse  dixit  of  his  teacher. 
We  think,  sometimes,  that  we  live  in  a 
wholly  critical  age.  It  is  a  great  mistake. 
Every  man  who  is  rightfully  a  teacher 
exercises  a  certain  degree  of  authority. 
The  astronomer  tells  his  pupil  to  turn  his 
glass  now  to  this  corner  of  the  universe, 
now  to  that.  He  tells  him  he  shall  find 
this,  that,  and  the  other  star,  tells  him 
about  their  dimensions  and  relations,  tells 

him 


i8o 


him  to  seek  and  he  shall  find,  holds  out  a 
promise  for  the  reward  of  obedience  ;  and 
the  pupil  does  as  he  is  told  to  do.  It  is 
the  same  in  every  department  of  human 
study,  and  we  never  feel  the  bondage  of 
it.  And  so  our  Lord  comes  to  us  just  as 
other  teachers  do,  and  says,  out  of  the 
maturity,  out  of  the  fulness,  out  of  the 
divinity  of  his  own  spiritual  wisdom,  out 
of  the  wealth  of  his  own  consciousness 
of  sonship  and  brotherhood,  "Seek,  and 
ye  shall  find."  It  is  reasonable  that  we 
should  act  on  his  command  inspired  by  his 
promise,  as  it  is  reasonable  that  we  should 
act  on  the  command  inspired  by  the  prom- 
ise of  our  other  teachers. 

And,  finally,  our  Lord's  words  rest  for 
their  reasonableness  on  the  great  assump- 
tion of  the  passage  which  I  read,  —  the 
fatherhood  of  God.  God  will  not  mock 
our  instincts  ;  God  will  not  mock  our  as- 
pirations, our  essential  and  crying  needs. 
Human  fatherhood  will  not  mock.  No 
father  will  give  a  stone  for  a  piece  of 
bread.  No  human  father  will  give  a  ser- 
pent for  a  fish.  Human  fatherhood  meets 
the  real  need,  and  does  not  mock  it.  And 
will  not  the  divine  fatherhood  meet  the 

real 


,  ana  ye  sfyall  finfc*        181 

real  need  ?  If,  indeed,  we  ask  for  a  stone, 
supposing  that  it  is  bread ;  if,  indeed,  we 
ask  for  a  serpent,  supposing  that  a  serpent 
is  fish, —  God  will  not  answer  that  prayer ; 
but,  in  denying  the  form  of  the  prayer,  he 
will  answer  its  spirit,  and  give  us,  not 
what  we  ask,  but  what  we  need.  And  it 
is  this  faith  that  we  are  made  in  the  image 
of  God,  with  truth  for  our  birthright,  with 
character  for  our  crown,  with  a  holy  soul 
for  our  righteous  reward, —  it  is  this  truth 
that  is  the  deepest  inspiration  of  all  our 
seeking,  of  all  our  devotion,  and  all  our 
hopes.  This  seeking  must  be  perpetual. 

How  sad  was  that  incident  reported  of 
the  severe  weather  in  the  West  the  other 
week,  when  a  man  dropped  down  in  hope- 
lessness, and  died  seven  feet  from  his  own 
door !  There  are  many  men  that  come 
near  a  great  truth,  come  close  to  a  great 
moral  triumph,  come  almost  to  the  door  of 
faith  and  hope  and  love  and  spiritual  peace 
and  power,  and  lie  down  in  despair  and 
hopelessness,  and  sacrifice  their  manhood, 
their  possibility  of  joy  and  usefulness.  We 
must  press  on.  As  Bishop  Berkeley  says, 
we  must  dedicate  our  youth  and  our  age 
to  the  pursuit  of  truth,  if  we  would  find 

it 


1 82  Barbara 

it  in  its  symmetry,  in  its  beauty,  in  its 
grandeur,  in  all  the  glory  of  its  essential 
being. 

Do  you  remember  that  story  about 
Jacob,  when,  after  he  had  sinned  against 
his  father  and  against  his  brother,  he  fled 
from  his  home,  and  went  out  into  a  soli- 
tary place  and  lay  down,  as  he  thought,  a 
poor,  God-forsaken  fugitive?  And  he  had 
a  dream  while  he  slept  of  a  ladder,  one 
end  of  which  was  planted  on  the  earth  and 
the  other  end  of  which  touched  the  very 
heavens.  And  on  its  rounds  came  down 
and  passed  up  messengers  from  the  celes- 
tial world ;  and,  when  he  woke  from  his 
dream,  he  said,  fugitive,  vile  sinner  as  he 
was:  "Truly,  the  Lord  is  in  this  place; 
and  I  knew  it  not.  This  is  none  other 
than  the  house  of  God ;  this  is  the  gate  of 
heaven."  That  was  the  sense  of  God  that 
overtook  one  fleeing  from  him.  If  you 
and  I  flee  not  from  God,  but  to  God,  may 
not  similar  visions  of  glory  meet  us,  and 
a  profounder  sense  of  God  enclose  us  ? 
May  not  the  blessed  conviction  come  to 
us  in  the  broad  fields  of  the  world  and 
under  the  canopy  of  the  sky,  as  it  came 
to  that  fugitive,  if  we  flee  to  God  ?  This 

world, 


ant)  ve  styall  finu.        183 

world,  in  all  its  activities,  in  all  its  rela- 
tionship, in  all  its  proper  ends,  in  all  its 
legitimate  enjoyment,  is  none  other  than 
the  house  of  God  ;  and  this  life,  properly 
interpreted,  properly  pursued,  properly  re- 
garded, the  gate  of  heaven. 


XXIII. 

THE   PARABLE  OF  THE  POUNDS. 
LUKE  xix. 

BOTH  of  these  parables  are  crowded 
full  of  suggestive  lessons  for  life. 
Our  affair  with  them  to-day  consists  singly 
in  this  point,  which  both  of  them  teach, — 
the  illustration  they  both  give  of  the  in- 
terest these  people  took  in  their  work  it- 
self, without  apparently  looking  forward 
to  any  reward  which  they  were  to  receive. 
They  took  hold  of  the  work,  and  did  the 
best  they  could.  What  is  interesting  is 
that  the  Saviour  recognizes  this  very  curi- 
ous diversity  of  human  faculties  which  we 
recognize  in  such  a  place  as  this,  and 
which  is  recognized  in  the  world  every- 
where. No  two  people  having  the  same 
talent  given  them  will  come  out  to  the 
same  result  and  in  the  same  way.  Each 
one  has  a  different  capacity ;  each  one  is 
going  to  use  it  in  a  different  fashion ; 

each 


parable  of  tfoe  |0ounDfif»     185 

each  one  is  going  to  come  out  with  a 
different  result.  But  observe,  that,  in 
both  parables,  the  people  who  receive  the 
commendation  of  the  Saviour  are  those 
who  went  to  work,  heartily  interested  in 
the  work  itself,  and  carrying  that  work  to 
a  successful  conclusion,  each  one  in  his 
own  way. 

This  is  the  point  which  I  want  to  press 
this  afternoon.  I  do  not  wish  simply  to 
call  your  attention  to  the  value  of  an 
intellectual  interest  in  the  work  you  have 
in  hand.  I  would  do  that,  perhaps,  in 
some  detail,  if  it  had  not  been  done  so 
much  better,  only  a  few  weeks  ago,  by  the 
English  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  Mr. 
Goschen,  in  a  very  striking  address  to  the 
students  of  Aberdeen.  He  took  the  sub- 
ject of  the  intellectual  interest  which  a 
man  must  have  in  his  own  work,  and  he 
showed,  for  instance,  that  the  great  law- 
yers succeed,  not  because  they  receive 
great  fees,  but  because  they  are  interested 
in  the  law  ;  and,  for  another  instance,  that 
the  advances  in  medical  science  are  made 
by  physicians  because  of  their  personal 
interest  in  medical  science.  This  address 
descends  so  profoundly  into  the  depths  of 

things 


1  86 


things  that  some  of  the  English  journals 
speak  of  it  as  marking  an  era  in  educa- 
tion. I  could  hope  that  the  editors  of  the 
Harvard  Monthly,  or  of  the  other  college 
journals,  might  find  themselves  able  to 
make  copious  extracts  from  it. 

I  do  not  want  now  to  speak  of  this  in- 
tellectual interest  alone,  but  to  ask,  How 
are  we  going  to  get  a  moral  interest  in 
our  work  ?  And  here  Mr.  Goschen  stops. 
Perhaps  he  did  not  think  it  wise  to  go 
into  it  before  his  audience  ;  but  that  is 
what  I  may  and  must  speak  of  here. 
How  are  we  going  to  be  morally  inter- 
ested in  our  daily  work,  and  give  our 
whole  vital  power  to  the  work  we  have  in 
hand  ?  Certainly,  we  are  not  going  to  be 
bought  into  any  such  interest.  Any  one 
knows,  who  is  preparing  for  an  examina- 
tion, what  the  difference  is  between  the 
work  he  does  only  because  his  father 
wants  him  to  have  an  A  or  B,  or  because 
he  knows  that  he  will  be  dropped  unless 
he  gets  up  to  this  point,  or,  on  the  other 
hand,  because  he  is  dead  in  earnest  in  the 
work  itself  ;  because  he  is  interested  in 
Homer,  or  because  he  is  interested  in  the 
law  of  growth,  and  is  determined  to  find 

why 


parable  of  tty  poun&s.     187 

why  these  trees  grow  as  they  do.  Any 
one  of  you  knows  the  difference  between 
work  done  for  love  of  the  subject  and  work 
done  merely  to  keep  up  to  such  or  such 
a  standard,  or  for  any  external  inducement 
which  can  be  offered. 

Now,  what  the  parable  shows  us  is  the 
way  in  which  a  man  gets  his  interest  in 
his  subject,  so  that  he  carries  on  his  duty 
as  if  he  were  carrying  it  on  by  his  own 
original  power.  All  these  men  do  this 
thing  for  their  loyalty  to  their  chief,  be- 
cause they  are  his  servants.  And  the 
Saviour  himself,  in  many  instances,  has 
shown  us  how  he  so  fully  did  his  work. 
He  said  to  his  mother, —  in  the  very  first 
words  of  his  we  have, —  "Wist  ye  not 
that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  busi- 
ness ? "  There  is  the  key  to  the  whole  of 
it.  Again,  afterward,  "  My  Father  work 
eth  hitherto,  and  I  work."  That  is  the 
standard  of  his  endeavor.  He  is  at  work 
because  he  is  the  Son  of  God.  God  has 
commissioned  him.  And  he  is  at  work 
because  God  wants  him.  Now,  let  a  man 
go  to  work  in  that  fashion  ;  let  him  study 
his  botany  or  chemistry  in  that  fashion ; 
let  him  invest  his  funds  in  State  Street  in 

that 


1 88  Carbarn 

that  fashion ;  let  him  go  into  a  school  and 
teach  a  boy  the  Latin  grammar  in  that 
fashion  ;  and  then  he  will  know  what  it  is 
to  love  his  work  with  all  his  heart  and 
soul  and  mind  and  strength.  There  is  a 
certain  purpose  which  God  almighty  has 
for  this  work.  He  has  not  yet  finished 
that  purpose.  He  has  advanced  it  in 
every  century  from  the  beginning.  What 
we  call  evolution  is  simply  a  result  of  the 
steady  advancement  of  God's  purpose  in 
the  world.  The  world  is  better  now  than 
it  was  a  hundred  or  a  thousand  years  ago, 
because  God  has  advanced  his  purpose 
in  the  world.  There  is  not  a  man  of  us 
who  would  live  in  the  year  1788,  or  two 
hundred  years  ago,  if  any  wizard  could 
put  him  back  there.  The  world  is  so 
muchx  better  a  world  to  live  in,  that  every 
human  being,  who  knows  anything  about 
it,  would  choose  this  year  to  live  in  rather 
than  any  year  of  the  past.  Well,  God  has 
similar  purposes  for  this  century,  for  this 
very  year  that  is  before  us.  How  are 
those  purposes  to  be  carried  out  ?  Why, 
by  people  like  you  and  me,  by  people  who 
are  sons  and  daughters  of  God,  and  to 
whom  God  has  given  this  direction, —  that 

we 


parable  of  tlje  pounft*.     189 

we  should  go  about  our  Father's  business, 
and  be  sure  to  fulfil  our  Father's  will. 
When  that  dawns  upon  a  man ;  when  he 
finds  that  he  cannot  be  alone,  but  has  in- 
finite powers  given  him  for  an  infinite 
purpose, —  that  man  is  interested  in  the 
work  in  which  he  is  engaged.  Such  a 
man  was  the  great  chief  of  science  who 
has  just  now  been  called  away  from  us 
here.*  Such  men  have  been  all  the  great 
leaders  that  the  world  has  had.  They 
have  entered  into  their  work  because  they 
were  going  about  their  Father's  business, 
and  were  using  the  powers  he  gave  them 
for  the  purposes  which  he  had  in  view. 
The  Saviour  himself  has  again  and  again 
shown,  with  that  close,  keen  knowledge  of 
one  who  knew  what  was  in  man,  what  this 
power  is.  It  is  the  point  of  so  many  of 
his  parables. 

You  remember  one  of  those  parables  in 
which  he  describes  two  women  who  are 
working  in  the  very  same  place,  about  the 
very  same  thing.  But  they  work  with 
such  different  motive  !  They  were  grind- 
ing corn  for  the  evening  meal  of  their 
children.  They  were  grinding  it  in  the 
simple  way  which  some  of  you  have  seen. 

You 

*  Dr.  Asa  Gray. 


190  J?art)aru 

You  can  see  it  in  New  Mexico  or  Texas 
to-day.  The  woman  sits  with  a  sort  of 
trough  before  her.  There  are  little  ribs 
across  the  trough.  The  corn  is  put  in 
there,  and  she  rubs  a  rough  long  stone  up 
and  down  over  it,  working  it  backward 
and  forward.  In  this  case,  there  were 
two  women  working  backward  and  for- 
ward, holding  the  same  stone  and  push- 
ing and  pulling  in  exactly  the  same  way. 
One  of  these  women  was  all  the  time 
provoked  that  she  had  to  do  this.  She 
was  asking  why  some  one  else  could  not 
do  it,  why  this  man  or  this  boy  could 
not  do  it.  She  was  not  doing  it  be- 
cause she  wanted  to :  she  was  doing  it 
because  her  children  would  complain  if  it 
were  not  done.  But  the  other  of  these 
women  remembered  who  she  was,  that 
she  was  God's  child,  and  God  had  given 
her  children,  and  God  had  commissioned 
her  to  answer  the  prayer  of  those  chil- 
dren for  their  daily  bread.  I  suppose  that 
woman  said  to  herself :  "  The  great  God 
in  heaven  made  this  corn  to  grow.  The 
great  God  in  heaven  moved  the  sun  in 
the  sky  that  the  corn  should  ripen.  And, 
when  the  right  moment  came,  he  watered 

it 


2Elje  parable  of  tlje  pounDs.     191 


it  with  his  dew  and  the  showers  that  fell 
on  the  ground  ;  and,  when  it  grew  and 
ripened,  he  sent  men  to  harvest  it  ;  and 
now  at  last  here  I  am,  sent  as  a  fellow- 
workman  with  him,  to  work  as  steadily  as 
the  sun  in  heaven  and  the  dew  that  falls, 
doing  their  work  in  his  perfect  love.  God 
permits  me  to  give  this  last  touch  of  his 
love,  that  my  children  might  be  fed." 
Thus  were  these  two  women,  doing  the 
same  thing.  But,  as  the  Saviour  says, 
one  of  these  women  was  taken  up  into 
the  very  joy  of  God,  —  taken  to  be  his 
companion,  and  to  rest  in  his  arms  !  The 
other  woman  was  left,  —  left  to  her  own 
sour  thoughts  and  complainings.  This  is 
just  the  contrast  that  happens  every  day 
in  this  university.  It  happens  every  day 
in  the  streets  of  the  city.  It  happens  in 
every  workshop.  It  is  the  difference  be- 
tween the  man  who  works  with  the  sense 
that  he  is  a  child  of  God,  and  is  doing  his 
duty,  and  the  man  who  is  filled  with  the 
poor  thought  of  his  own  selfishness  and 
greed. 


XXIV. 

COMING  TO   ONE'S   SELF. 
LUKE  xv. 

TASK  you  to  think  for  a  moment  of 
a  single  point  in  the  pathetic  story 
which  we  have  read  together,  of  the 
Prodigal  and  his  Father.  I  do  not  ask 
you  to  follow  this  young  soul  into  the 
worst  of  its  evil,  or  to  apply  the  lessons 
of  his  whole  career;  for  it  must  be  only 
rarely  that  the  more  tragic  part  of  his 
experience  can  come  home  to  you  with 
any  force.  Most  of  the  time  —  let  us 
frankly  confess  it  —  you  are  not  conscious 
of  this  complete  and  voluntary  estrange- 
ment. You  have  not  abandoned  yourself 
to  riotous  living.  When  you  hear  people 
confessing  this  absolute  vileness  and  this 
hostility  to  God,  it  comes  to  many  of  you 
with  a  sense  of  unreality.  Perhaps  you 
would  agree  that  the  case  of  the  elder 
brother  was  nearer  your  own,  the  son  who 

never 


Coming  to  ®ne'0  £>rlf*        193 

never  wholly  deserted  his  home,  but  who, 
though  he  shared  its  blessings,  was  never 
wholly  generous  or  self-forgetful. 

I  turn,  then,  to  the  young  prodigal 
to-day, —  not  in  his  devotion  to  evil,  but 
in  his  new  beginning  of  the  life  of  good. 
Evil  has  had  its  way  with  him.  He  has 
left  his  home,  he  has  yielded  to  his  pas- 
sions, he  has  drunk  the  cup  of  self-indul- 
gence to  its  dregs  ;  and  then,  as  the  story 
says,  "he  comes  to  himself," — he  wakes, 
as  it  were,  from  what  had  been  so  vivid 
that  he  had  not  dreamed  it  was  a  dream, 
and  finds  that  he  has  been  asleep,  or,  as 
perhaps  is  still  more  strongly  meant,  he 
rouses  himself  from  that  illusion  and  in- 
sanity of  life  in  which  he  had  been,  as  we 
say,  "beside  himself,"  and,  coming  to  him- 
self again,  finds  what  a  sane,  true  life 
should  be. 

"  He  came  to  himself."  That  was  the 
turning-point  of  this  young  man's  career. 
It  was  not  himself,  then,  that  had  de- 
parted from  his  father's  house  into  the 
life  of  sin.  His  true  life,  his  real  self, 
had  remained  behind.  As  the  father  said 
of  him,  "  he  had  been  dead,  and  was  alive 
again ;  he  had  been  lost,  and  was  found." 

He 


194 

He  had  thought  it  was  himself  which 
had  gone  away,  but  it  was  not.  It  was 
only  a  mockery  of  himself.  He  had 
thought  that  he  was,  as  we  say,  "seeing 
life "  ;  but  he  was  in  reality  only  seeing 
death, —  the  death  of  his  real  self.  And 
now,  as  he  sits  among  the  husks,  the  illu- 
sion is  withdrawn  from  his  sense  of  per- 
sonality. He  rediscovers  himself.  He 
comes  to  himself ;  and,  with  the  emer- 
gence of  this  sense  of  his  own  true  per- 
sonality above  the  currents  of  the  pas- 
sions which  had  overwhelmed  him,  his 
new  life  begins.  It  was  like  the  emer- 
gence of  the  first  dry  land  after  the  del- 
uge. It  gave  a  spot  of  firm  ground  on 
which  the  ark  of  his  safety  might  rest. 
There  was  the  joy  of  finding  that  which 
had  been  lost.  There  was  the  miracle  of 
that  which  had  been  dead  coming  to  life 
again. 

"  He  came  to  himself."  That  is  the 
transition  which  makes  the  turning-point 
of  any  human  career,  whether  it  has 
passed  through  all  the  tragedy  of  sin  or 
whether  it  knows  nothing  of  these  deeper 
sorrows.  Still,  the  first,  plain,  practical, 
and  personal  experience  which  indicates 

the 


Coming  to  ®ne'0  £>elf.        195 

the  most  momentous  transition  in  any 
life  lies  in  this  discovery  of  the  meaning 
of  personality,  which  the  parable  calls 
coming  to  one's  self. 

See  how  this  occurs  in  the  intellectual 
life.  Your  mind  wanders  away  into  list- 
lessness  and  sluggishness.  It  does  its 
tasks,  but  it  does  them  trivially  and  un- 
productively.  It  thinks,  but  not  of  things 
of  which  it  is  worth  while  to  think.  Thus 
it  is  that  many  a  young  man  goes  on  in 
his  education.  He  acquires  that  fatal 
facility  of  getting  enough  knowledge  to 
serve  his  immediate  need,  and  then  of 
shedding  it  from  the  mind  like  water  from 
a  roof.  The  pressure  of  his  tasks  is  upon 
him  :  he  learns,  he  succeeds,  and  he  for- 
gets. Then,  some  day,  he  wakes  up. 
Some  great  thought  or  great  book  speaks 
its  word  to  him,  or  some  trivial  conversa- 
tion conveys  its  deeper  meaning;  and  the 
mind  comes  to  itself.  Then  the  tasks  of 
the  mind  take  on  a  new  meaning.  All 
the  dulness  and  commonplaceness  of 
study  drop  away.  The  book  or  thought 
meets  the  awakened  mind,  and  it  is  like 
the  meeting  of  the  two  poles  of  an  elec- 
tric battery.  Out  of  their  contact  come 

forth 


1 96 

forth  new  light  and  new  heat.  It  is  the 
doctrine  of  regeneration  applied  to  the 
intellectual  life.  That  which  was  lost  is 
found.  That  which  was  dead  springs  to 
life  again.  It  is  like  a  slow  blossoming 
plant,  lingering  through  years  of  sluggish- 
ness, and  then  blooming  in  a  night. 

See,  still  more  seriously,  how  the  same 
thing  occurs  in  the  moral  conduct  of  life. 
Here  is  your  conscience,  drifting,  listless, 
and  sluggish.  It  is  not  that  your  con- 
science is  bad  :  it  is  only  that  it  is  asleep. 
It  has  not  yet  waked  to  a  sense  of  itself. 
That  is  the  drowsy  condition  of  the 
worldly,  thoughtless  life.  Then,  some  day, 
something  happens  —  something  great  or 
something  small  —  which  wakes  your  will. 
You  come  to  yourself,  and  say :  "  What 
is  this  that  I  have  been  doing  ?  I  have 
been  asleep  when  I  should  have  been 
awake.  I  have  been  asleep  like  a  soldier 
at  his  post.  Nay,  I  have  been  asleep  as 
one  who  wakes  and  finds  a  precipice  at 
his  side."  Sometimes,  this  great  transi- 
tion comes  in  the  tremendous  shock  of 
some  solemn  experience.  There  comes 
to  you,  in  the  midst  of  your  compan- 
ionship here,  some  sudden  recall  to  seri- 
ous 


Coming  to  ®ne'$  |a>clf,        197 

ous  things, —  a  word  spoken,  an  influence 
accepted,  the  terrible  spectacle  brought 
close  to  you  of  a  life  which  had  lived 
near  the  precipice,  and  had  suddenly  gone 
over  it,  or  there  is  brought  to  you  one 
day  the  word  from  your  home  that  the 
life  which  was  most  dear  to  you,  and 
which  you  would  have  done  anything  to 
make  happy,  is  all  at  once  taken  out  of 
your  keeping.  At  such  times  as  these, 
a  man  goes  back  to  his  room ;  and  his 
life  is  in  that  moment  changed,  and  he 
says  to  himself :  "  What  have  I  been 
about,  in  the  midst  of  these  daily  possi- 
bilities of  tragedy  and  sorrow,  in  this 
transitory  moment  of  my  human  oppor- 
tunity, to  let  my  real  self  lie  undiscovered 
or  unused  ?  Here  is  my  life  with  its  op- 
portunities, my  companionships  with  their 
responsibilities,  my  home  with  its  prayers ; 
and  all  have  been  carelessly  rejected  or 
sluggishly  received.  I  have  been  drifting, 
like  the  lazy  crew  of  a  becalmed  vessel. 
Now,  of  a  sudden,  there  is  the  whistle  of 
a  fresh  wind  above  me,  and  the  sound  of 
breakers  in  my  ears.  It  is  no  time  for 
drifting  :  it  is  time  to  leap  to  the  helm  ! " 
And  so  the  will  takes  command  of  its 

drowsy 


198 

drowsy  faculties.  The  energies  which 
were  lost  are  in  that  moment  of  crisis 
found.  The  loyalty  which  was  dead 
springs  to  life  again  ;  and  the  soul,  under 
the  prick  of  pain  or  sorrow  or  example, 
comes  to  itself  again. 

Such  are  some  of  the  ways  in  which 
the  life  of  the  mind  or  of  the  will  takes 
this  mighty  step.  It  is  not  an  experience 
for  prodigals  alone,  but  for  every  mind 
and  will.  The  first  discovery  of  a  mature 
life  is  the  discovery  of  itself.  The  return 
of  the  prodigal  to  his  father's  house  began 
when  he  came  to  himself.  But  now  there 
is  still  another  question  to  ask.  What 
is  the  inward  impulse  to  this  new  sense 
of  one's  real  life  ?  Why  is  it  that,  when 
circumstances  thus  press  upon  us,  they 
bring  us  to  this  new  waking  of  the  soul  ? 
What  made  the  prodigal  come  to  himself? 
Was  it  simply  a  natural  reaction,  a  spon- 
taneous, self-originated  thought  ?  I  have 
no  doubt  that  the  prodigal  thought  so.  I 
suppose  he  seemed  to  himself  to  be  all 
alone  in  this  transition,  as  though  he 
pulled  himself  together  by  strength  of 
will,  and  said  to  himself,  "  I  have  gone 
too  far,  and  will  return."  But  in  reality 

there 


Coming  to  ®ne'$  g>elf,        199 

there  was  another  influence  beyond  his 
own,  which  was  working  in  him  to  draw 
him  home.  It  was  the  influence  of  his 
father,  tugging  at  his  will  throughout  all 
his  wandering  and  now  at  last  getting 
control.  What  was  gnawing  at  the  poor 
boy's  heart  was  in  reality  homesickness. 
It  was  not  alone  the  self-assertion  of  his 
own  will,  it  was  the  reassertion  of  his 
father's  will,  with  its  new  persuasiveness, 
so  that  the  moment  he  came  to  himself 
he  said,  "  I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my 
father."  What  he  thought  was  his  own 
resolution  was  in  reality  the  wonderful 
electric  message  which  had  passed  from 
his  father's  heart  to  his  own,  and  which 
demanded  its  reply ;  and  his  coming  to 
himself  was  of  itself  the  work  of  God  in 
his  own  soul. 

Precisely  so  it  is  that  we  must  interpret 
all  these  varied  experiences  of  mind  and 
will  which  we  have  traced.  Yes,  they  are 
human  resolutions  and  reactions,  but  they 
are,  none  the  less,  when  more  deeply 
traced,  the  workings  of  the  influence  of 
God  in  the  souls  of  men,  the  homesick- 
ness of  the  child,  and  the  influence  of  the 
waiting  Father.  Whenever  any  young 

life 


200 

life  comes  to  itself  in  the  growth  of  its 
mind  or  the  renewal  of  its  duty,  there, 
and  in  no  remoter  place,  is  the  influence 
of  God.  That  which  is  a  human  thing 
from  one  side  is  a  divine  leading  from  the 
other.  That  which  is  intellectual  or  moral 
in  one  aspect  is  religious  in  another.  It 
is  a  twofold  process.  We  work  out  our 
own  salvation,  because  God  is  working  in 
us  to  will  and  to  do.  We  come  to  our- 
selves, because  God  calls  us.  It  is  like  the 
coming  of  the  flowers  in  spring.  They 
might  think  their  sudden  push  above  the 
earth  was  a  work  which  was  all  their  own. 
But  it  is  not.  It  is  in  reality  their  re- 
sponse to  the  increasing  sunshine  which 
calls  to  them.  It  beckons,  and  they  bloom. 
They  have  been  dead,  and  are  alive  again. 
They  have  been  lost,  and  are  found. 

O  my  brethren,  I  would  to  God  that  I 
could  make  you  see  how  much  this  means 
in  the  conduct  of  our  daily  life !  Here  we 
are  searching  for  signs  of  God  and  evi- 
dence of  religion  in  some  remote  region 
of  science  or  of  Scripture,  while  all  the 
time  the  real  evidences  of  a  living  God 
are  in  the  intimate  experiences  of  per- 
sonal life  which  remain  for  us  all  unex- 
plored. 


Coming  to  ®ne'0  £>elf«        201 

plored.  When,  in  the  unfolding  of  your 
mind  among  the  happy  influences  which 
beset  you  here,  there  shall  come  to  you 
that  peerless  moment  when  the  mind 
comes  to  itself,  and  you  determine  to  do 
a  man's  work  in  a  world  which  needs  men 
so  sorely,  what  is  all  this  in  its  deeper 
meaning  ?  It  is  a  living  God  speaking  to 
your  mind.  It  is  the  revelation  of  the 
Father  to  the  child.  It  is  the  universal 
mind  calling  to  the  individual  mind.  It 
is  Truth  demanding  your  loyalty.  It  is  a 
religious  experience,  close,  inevitable,  real. 
And  the  true  answer  of  the  mind,  when  it 
thus  comes  to  itself,  is  to  say,  "  I  will 
arise  and  go  to  my  Father,  and  will  dedi- 
cate to  him  the  wondrous  gift  he  has  put 
into  my  hands."  Or  when,  in  the  crises 
of  your  duty,  the  way  of  peace  and  right 
summons  you  with  its  sweet  compulsion, 
it  is  once  more  the  call  of  the  Eternal 
Right,  making  itself  heard  in  your  waking 
soul.  It  is  the  summons  of  God  through 
the  voice  of  duty.  Not  far  away  lie  the 
sources  of  religious  trust, — not  in  the  evi- 
dences of  the  stars  or  seas  or  ancient  man, 
but  here  amid  the  inevitable  experiences 
of  our  daily  mistakes  and  of  our  sincere 

repentances. 


202  l^arbaru 

repentances.  The  life  of  God  and  the  life 
of  man  are  all  interwoven  in  the  web  of 
human  experiences. 

"  So  nigh  is  grandeur  to  our  dust, 

So  near  is  God  to  man, 
When  Duty  whispers  low,  '  Thou  must,' 
The  youth  replies,  '  I  can.'  " 

There  is  but  one  way  of  separating  the 
life  of  God  from  the  souls  of  men.  It  is 
by  withdrawing  one's  self  into  that  distant 
country  of  forgetfulness  and  self-absorp- 
tion, of  passion  and  lust.  Then  the  mes- 
sages of  God,  while  they  are  still  sent,  fail 
to  penetrate  into  the  life,  and  remain  un- 
heard. But,  when  the  mind  or  the  will 
comes  to  itself,  then  it  recognizes  the  call 
of  God  in  these  deeper  passages  of  expe- 
rience; and  it  answers  this  "drawing  of 
the  Father"  with  the  response  of  a  son, — 
"I  will  arise,  and  go  to  the  home  where  I 
belong,  and  will  finish  the  work  that  is 
given  me  of  my  God  to  do." 


XXV. 

JUDGMENTS   OF   LIFE. 
PSALM  x. 

IN  the  psalm  which  we  have  read  to- 
gether this  afternoon,  David  gives  us 
one  of  those  strong  descriptions,  emphatic 
and  intense,  of  the  wicked  man  and  the 
fate  that  awaits  him.  One  of  the  things 
that  always  strike  us  in  the  Psalms  of 
David  is  the  distinctness  with  which  the 
wicked  man  and  the  righteous  man  stand 
before  us  as  clear  and  distinguishable  in- 
dividuals. We,  with  our  modern  ideas  and 
subtle  thought,  are  apt  to  think  of  every 
bad  man  as  partly  good  and  every  good 
man  as  partly  bad,  of  goodness  and  bad- 
ness as  always  mingled  together  in  per- 
sonal character.  We  are  so  apt  to  think 
this  that  the  good  man  and  the  bad  man 
do  not  stand  out  so  clearly  before  us  as 
they  did  before  David,  and,  I  think  I  may 
say,  as  they  stood  out  before  Christ.  While 

that 


204 

that  analysis  and  perception  of  the  weak- 
ness of  character  in  each  man's  life,  which 
is  so  familiar  to  us,  is  very  good,  David's 
thought  is  no  doubt  the  true  one, —  that 
there  is,  after  all,  in  every  character  de- 
termination which  declares  for  righteous- 
ness or  toward  unrighteousness.  There- 
fore, the  wicked  man  is  distinguished  as 
the  man  who  does  not  desire  goodness, 
as  the  man  whose  face  is  set  away  from 
righteousness,  who  is  living  in  the  midst 
of  unrighteousness,  and  is  content  with 
that  life. 

I  was  struck  with  one  verse  —  the  fifth 
—  in  that  psalm,  which  describes  in  one 
definition  this  wicked  man  and  his  con- 
tent to  live  in  unrighteousness.  David 
says,  "Thy  judgments  are  far  above,  out 
of  his  sight." 

God's  judgments  are  out  of  a  man's 
sight.  Just  think  of  it  for  a  moment. 
There  are  regions  of  which  we  have  no 
cognizance,  which  do  not  enter  into  our 
thought  or  sympathy,  in  which  we  are 
being  judged  every  day.  A  man's  life 
depends  much,  upon  his  consciousness  of 
the  judgments  passed  upon  him.  If  a 
man  is  satisfied  with  the  lower  judgments 

relating 


of  iltfe.          205 

relating  to  his  earthly  condition,  which  ap- 
peal to  his  immediate  prospects,  he  leaves 
untasted  and  untouched  his  right  to  the 
richer  series  of  judgments,  which  are  far 
above  him,  and  which  are  condemning  or 
approving  all  his  life.  It  almost  seems  to 
open  the  universe  before  us,  to  let  us  see 
the  clouds  in  the  heavens  filled  with  the 
long  series  of  thrones,  growing  whiter  and 
whiter  until  the  great  white  throne  stands 
above  them  all.  On  each  one  sits  one  of 
the  judges,  and  at  the  summit  of  all  God 
himself;  and  every  action  that  we  do, 
every  thought,  and  every  life  is  ever  pass- 
ing up  and  being  judged  at  each  one  of 
these  separate  judgment  seats.  And  the 
richness  and  the  sacredness  and  solemnity 
of  a  man's  life  depend  on  his  conscious- 
ness of  these  judgments  which  are  for- 
ever being  passed  upon  him.  And  the 
condemnation  of  the  wicked,  according  to 
David,  is  that  God's  judgments  are  so  far 
above  out  of  sight,  that  he  is  so  groping 
in  the  dust  of  the  present  life  that  he  is 
unconscious,  that  he  is  unmoved,  unsol- 
emnized,  unchanged,  unaffected,  by  all  the 
great  judgments  which  the  higher  powers 
of  the  universe  are  passing  upon  his  life. 

Think 


206 


Think  how  many  of  us  live  in  lower 
judgments.  Think  how  we  live  before 
the  judgment-seat  of  pleasure,  deciding 
whether  the  thing  that  we  are  going  to 
do  is  to  give  us  happiness  or  unhappiness 
for  the  moment.  Think  how  we  live  be- 
fore the  judgment-seat  of  profit,  deciding 
whether  the  thing  we  are  going  to  do  shall 
make  us  richer  or  poorer.  Think  how  we 
live  before  the  judgment-seat  of  reputa- 
tion, doing  or  not  doing  things  according 
as  those  who  stand  around  us,  with  no 
higher  standards  than  our  own,  are  going 
to  disapprove  or  approve.  And  all  the 
time  tower  before  us  these  great  judg- 
ment-seats of  God,  so  far  above  us,  out 
of  sight.  Think  what  some  of  them  arc. 

The  universe  is  judging  us  all  the  time 
as  to  whether  we  shall  find  and  occupy 
the  place  that  has  been  appointed  for  us 
in  the  purposes  of  God.  There  is  no 
more  solemn  thought  for  any  man  than 
that  there  is  some  one  place  in  the  world 
which  is  meant  for  him,  which  he  is  capa- 
ble of  filling,  and  nobody  else  can  fill. 
And  the  universe  is  perpetually  judging 
him  by  that  special  place,  and  it  is  con- 
demning or  approving  him  as  he  does  or 

leaves 


3fltU>gmem$  of  flife.          207 

leaves  undone  the  part  set  for  him  to  do 
among  all  the  millions  of  mankind. 

Then  there  is  the  judgment  which  ab- 
solute Righteousness  is  always  passing 
upon  us,  the  calm  abstraction  which  we 
call  the  Right,  which  makes  itself  known 
so  really  through  all  the  operations  of 
the  world.  These  our  lives  come  up  be- 
fore that  Righteousness,  sitting  throned 
in  its  calmness,  and  are  judged  by  it. 
It  casts  us  aside  for  our  perversity,  or  it 
takes  us  into  its  embrace,  and  makes  us 
stronger  for  what  little  righteous  contri- 
bution we  have  made  to  the  good  activi- 
ties of  the  world. 

Then  there  are  all  the  pure  and  noble 
men  who  are  forever  judging  us, —  not 
malignantly  condemning  us,  not  feebly 
applauding  us  for  little  things,  but  decid- 
ing, as  we  come  into  their  presence, 
whether  there  is  any  use  in  us,  whether 
there  is  anything  that  we  can  do  to  make 
things  stronger  in  the  interests  of  which 
they  live. 

Thus  the  universe  and  righteousness 
and  the  noblest  men  are  sitting  on  the 
judgment-seats ;  and  our  thoughts  and 
lives  are  forever  coming  before  them  for 

judgment. 


208  J?arbarD 

judgment.  And  above  them,  whiter  than 
them  all,  is  the  great  white  throne,  where 
God  himself  is  sitting,  knowing  every  ac- 
tion of  our  lives,  judging  whether  we  are 
capable  of  receiving  him, —  God  with  his 
inexpressible,  unutterable,  unfathomable 
love,  trying  to  put  himself  into  our  lives, 
to  make  us  rich  with  his  richness,  good 
with  his  goodness,  and  finding  in  our 
character  every  moment  either  acceptance 
or  repulsion,  either  invitation  or  rejection 
of  his  love ;  God  judging  us  with  that 
importunate  affection  which  beats  at  the 
door  of  our  nature,  with  that  affection 
which  would  fain  make  our  lives  filled 
with  his  life,  with  that  affection  that  feels 
itself  accepted  or  refused,  the  judgment 
of  the  soul  being  in  the  refusal  of  the 
offer  of  God. 

O  my  dear  friends,  when  these  great 
judgments  open  themselves  above  us, 
when  these  great  judgment-seats  are  fill- 
ing the  sky,  and  we  know  that  every  deed 
of  ours  comes  before  them,  how  solemn 
and  how  dreadful  that  life  becomes, —  the 
life  which  is  forever  moving  toward  these 
judgment-seats  and  does  not  know  it,  the 
life  to  which  all  of  God's  judgments  are 
out  of  sight! 

Sometimes, 


31uUgment0  of  flife*          209 

Sometimes,  you  see  your  friend  close  at 
your  side  doing  a  work  or  living  a  life 
that  is  full  of  discontent.  His  face  grows 
troubled.  The  world  does  not  satisfy  him 
as  it  has  been  satisfying  him.  You  see 
that  his  aspirations  are  going  somewhere 
far  beyond  your  thought.  What  does  it 
mean  ?  That  he  has  lifted  up  his  eyes 
and  has  seen  the  loftier  and  nobler  judg- 
ment-seats, and  that  his  judgments  have 
come  back  to  him.  God  grant  that  they 
may  remain  with  him  until  he  shall  have 
so  remade  his  life  by  the  power  of  these 
lofty  judgments  that  it  shall  be  reconciled 
to  God,  and  he  shall  come  before  them 
and  no  longer  be  ashamed,  but  say,  "  I 
shall  be  satisfied  with  no  approval  until 
the  universe,  righteousness,  and  the  holi- 
est men  and  God  shall  claim  me  for  the 
noblest  work  that  they  can  do  for  me  and 
that  I  can  do  for  them." 

The  life  of  Jesus,  what  was  it  ?  A  life 
forever  pressing  forward,  forever  being 
judged  by  higher  and  higher  standards, — 
a  life  that  had  peace  and  freedom  from 
the  little  slavery  and  the  miserable  stand- 
ards of  lower  judgments,  which  stood  face 
to  face  with  God ;  for  there  was  no  judg- 
ment 


210 

ment  of  the  eternal  law,  the  eternal  love, 
that  was  out  of  his  sight.  Not  peace,  as 
we  call  peace;  not  peace  that  lives  in  com- 
placency and  is  content, —  nothing  should 
satisfy  us  short  of  the  peace  that  is  abso- 
lute reconciliation  with  God,  that  sees  and 
accepts  his  divine  standards,  that  is  will- 
ing and  craves  —  nay,  demands  —  to  be 
judged  by  the  highest ;  no  peace  short  of 
that  peace  which  eternity  shall  bring  to 
us,  when,  having  matched  the  perfect  de- 
mand with  complete  obedience,  we  shall 
move  before  the  judgment-seat  with  joy, 
absolute  and  perfect !  There  comes  a 
peace  before  that,  which  is  the  peace  of 
struggle,  the  peace  of  looking  forward  to 
that  which  alone,  when  it  is  attained,  shall 
be  absolute,  entire  rest.  The  peace  of  the 
soul  which  is  possible  now  is  the  peace  of 
the  journey.  Only  when  we  come  to  be 
perfect  as  our  Father  in  heaven  is  per- 
fect shall  we  have  the  peace  of  rest,  and 
the  work  that  shall  bring  no  perplexity, 
no  weariness,  no  misgivings,  but  infinite 
effectiveness,  progressiveness,  and  power 
forever  and  forever.  In  the  peace  of  the 
journey  which  despises  the  sluggish  peace 
which  has  not  yet  set  out,  in  the  peace  of 

the 


3f|ut>gmmtfi!  of  ilife,  211 

the  journey  which  expects  the  peace  of  the 
end,  may  we  go  on  in  these  days,  while 
God  keeps  us  living  in  this  world,  to  the 
richer  world  that  is  to  come  ! 


XXVI. 

REMEMBERING   GOD. 
ECCL.  xii.  i. 

THAT  word  "remember,"  standing 
where  it  does,  must  mean  a  great 
deal.  It  must  mean  to  keep  in  mind  the 
thought  of  God  as  the  shaping,  construc- 
tive, sovereign  influence  in  life.  The  idea 
of  beauty,  the  artist  paints  by ;  the  idea 
of  the  special  harvest,  the  farmer  tills  the 
field  by ;  the  chart,  the  mariner  sails  by. 
So  of  the  idea  of  God.  We  are  to  think 
by  it ;  we  are  to  feel  in  reference  to  it ; 
we  are  to  work  under  its  inspiration  ;  we 
are  to  live  by  the  power  of  its  life  and 
incentive.  The  idea  of  God  is  illumina- 
tion and  power.  It  is  interpretation,  and 
it  is  the  power  of  realization.  When  we 
keep  in  mind  the  idea  of  a  Creator  vitally, 
vividly,  profoundly,  we  provide  for  a  celes- 
tial interpretation  of  human  existence  and 
for  the  divine  power  in  the  realization  of 

that 


Hemembermg  <$ou.  213 

that  interpretation.  This  I  understand  to 
be  what  the  writer  meant  by  the  word  "re- 
member." Now  for  two  or  three  thoughts 
urging  us  to  this  practice  in  youth. 

First  of  all,  youth  is  educable.  If  a  man 
wants  to  be  a  mechanic  or  a  merchant  or 
a  physician,  he  begins  early.  It  is  essen- 
tial to  the  trade  or  the  profession  that  it 
shall  be  so.  If  a  man  wants  to  Chris- 
tianize his  life,  to  make  that  life  religious, 
ought  he  not  to  begin  early,  in  analogy 
with  other  things  which  he  does  ?  Take 
some  bright-eyed  child  with  you,  walk 
through  the  city  or  any  place  of  interest, 
and  mark  how  many  things  that  child 
will  observe  which  are  entirely  ignored 
by  you.  Why  so  ?  Because  childhood  is 
immeasurably  more  impressionable  than 
youth.  So  youth  is  immeasurably  more 
impressionable  than  manhood.  And  just 
as  the  hot  wax  receives  the  impression 
clearly  and  retains  it  lastingly,  so  the  im- 
pressionable mind  of  youth  receives  the 
stamp  of  the  character  of  God  more  clearly 
and  retains  it  more  lastingly  than  in  the 
subsequent  periods  of  life. 

Then  consider,  too,  how  simple  life  is 
when  we  are  young.  Look  at  the  busi- 
ness 


214 

ness  man  of  forty,  and  see  how  his  life 
has  left  its  original  simplicity.  He  is 
no  longer  simply  a  son  and  a  brother,  a 
friend  and  a  student :  he  is  himself  a  hus- 
band and  a  father,  and  a  business  man 
with  a  hundred  cares  and  responsibilities. 
His  life  has  branched  out  into  wonderful 
complexity.  It  is  intricate,  complicated, 
hard  to  manage.  Now,  suppose  that  the 
man  of  forty  begins  to  be  religious.  How 
difficult  is  his  problem, —  to  take  that 
single  force  of  the  idea  of  God  and  send 
it  through  all  these  relationships  in  which 
he  stands  !  It  cannot  be  done.  It  is  like 
an  attempt  to  thread  not  one  or  ten  or 
a  score,  but  a  hundred  needles  at  once. 
But,  if  the  man  begins  early,  it  is  differ- 
ent. He  is  a  son  ;  and  he  lets  the  love 
of  God  bear  upon  that  relation,  and  seeks 
for  the  power  of  God  to  realize  the  mean- 
ing of  it.  He  is  a  brother,  a  friend,  a 
student.  These  are  the  simple  relations 
in  which  he  stands.  Let  him  bring  these 
under  the  divine  illumination,  open  his 
heart  to  the  power  that  leads  him  to  real- 
ize their  divine  meaning.  Then,  when 
his  life  enlarges,  it  will  be  a  process  of 
assimilation.  He  is  religious  at  the  core, 

and 


Hrmembering  <0oD.  215 

and  the  substantial  relations  in  which  he 
stands  are  already  Christianized.  Life  will 
be  simply  the  growth  of  godliness. 

Then,  again,  if  a  man  wants  to  make 
any  high  attainment  in  religion,  he  must 
begin  early.  What  is  religion  but  the 
consecration  and  the  perfection  of  human 
life  ?  And,  if  it  be  the  consecration  and 
perfection  of  human  life,  ought  not  the 
passion  of  a  man's  heart  to  be  for  eminence 
in  it  ?  When  a  man  wakes  up  to  a  thirst 
for  knowledge  late  in  life,  he  is  pursued 
by  everlasting  regret  that  he  did  not  wake 
up  earlier.  When  a  man  becomes  prudent 
after  he  has  squandered  the  fortune  left 
him  by  his  father,  having  missed  what 
opportunities  for  enrichment  have  already 
presented  themselves,  he  is  pursued  by 
the  same  regret.  Whenever  a  man  raises 
an  ideal  later  than  he  should  have  raised 
it,  he  brings  upon  himself  regret.  When- 
ever a  man  raises  the  ideal  of  a  Christian 
life  later  than  he  should  have  raised  it, 
the  same  regret  comes  upon  him  ;  for  he 
sees  that  he  has  subtracted  from  his  pos- 
sible life  as  a  rational  being.  Take  so 
many  of  the  men  that  call  themselves 
religious, —  their  religion  is  simply  a  sen- 
timent. 


216 


timent.  It  is  a  precious  sentiment.  But 
it  is  not  conduct,  it  is  not  life,  but  sim- 
ply sentiment.  They  do  not  begin  early 
enough  to  go  beyond  the  sentimental 
stage  into  that  of  habit  and  character. 

If  we  begin  early,  we  may  expect  finally 
the  consummate  blessing  and  power  of 
the  religious  life,  —  spontaneity  in  work, 
spontaneity  in  noble  views  of  God,  in 
noble  views  of  men  and  of  the  future  of 
the  world,  spontaneity  in  goodness.  Is 
not  this  the  case  with  most  of  us,  — 
instinctively  pagan,  reflectively  Christian, 
spontaneously  selfish,  with  deliberation 
unselfish  ?  Is  not  this  our  hard  battle 
when  our  instincts  are  unchristianized  and 
remain  in  the  pagan  state,  that  simply 
by  reflection,  by  deliberation,  by  the  power 
of  reason,  is  a  man  good?  If  we  began 
early,  we  should  reach  the  instincts,  and 
transfigure  them  ;  we  should  harness  this 
power  of  spontaneity  to  the  chariot  of  the 
Lord.  If  we  begin  early  to  subject  our 
life  to  the  sovereign  power  of  the  idea  of 
God,  if  we  set  it  forth  under  the  illumina- 
tion of  his  light  and  under  the  realizing 
power  of  his  love,  our  religion  shall  at 
last  become  a  spontaneous  and  instinctive 

thing 


Remembering  $oD.  217 

thing.  We  shall  becpme  instinctively 
Christian,  spontaneously  noble.  Reflec- 
tion shall  have  the  wings  of  spontaneity 
and  instinct  to  carry  it  into  the  pure 
upper  air  of  divine  service,  of  divine 
thought,  and  divine  hope. 

Yes:  begin  early,  because  it  is  right. 
We  do  so  everywhere  else.  Begin  early, 
because  life  is  simple  then.  Begin  early, 
because  we  want  eminence  in  religious 
life,  as  in  everything  else.  Begin  early, 
because  we  want  an  instinctive  and  spon- 
taneous Christianity. 

May  all  the  fresh  life  here,  full  of  the 
pride  of  youth,  aspire  after  that  Chris- 
tianity which  means  the  consecration  and 
perfection  of  human  existence  !  May  such 
religion  become  the  passion,  the  glorious, 
overmastering  passion,  of  every  soul ! 


XXVII. 

ENLARGEMENT   OF   LIFE. 
LUKE  xix. 

I  READ  this  parable  a  few  weeks  since 
in  conducting  this  service,  wishing  to 
take  from  it  the  lesson  which  it  gives  us 
of  the  varieties  of  human  character  and 
human  life.  We  will  look  now  for  the 
other  lesson  which  it  teaches  us,  in  the 
enlargement  of  life, —  that  the  servants  of 
God,  if  they  do  their  duty,  shall  enlarge 
their  lives  from  day  to  day,  and  indeed 
forever.  If  there  be  any  proper  gospel 
for  the  day,  this  is  that  gospel ;  for,  as 
you  will  see  in  the  connection,  the  parable 
was  pronounced  by  Jesus  just  a  day  or 
two  before  Palm  Sunday,  as  they  were  on 
their  way  to  Jerusalem.  In  fact,  the  pas- 
sage begins  when  Luke  says,  "  He  added 
and  spake  a  parable  to  them,  because  he 
was  nigh  to  Jerusalem,  and  because  they 
supposed  that  the  kingdom  of  God  was 
immediately  to  appear." 

In 


enlargement  of  tlife,          219 

In  this  parable  and  the  corresponding 
parable,  the  lesson  of  the  enlargement  of 
life  as  the  real  recompense  of  duty  is 
spoken  of  in  the  most  distinct  way ;  and 
it  is  clear  that  each  parable  would  have 
been  incomplete  without  this  lesson  of 
the  enlargement  of  life.  The  faithful  ser- 
vants are  not  rewarded  in  kind :  they  are 
rewarded  by  promotion  to  a  higher  life. 
These  men  who  have  been  dealing  with  a 
few  paltry  pounds  or  a  few  paltry  talents 
are  rewarded  by  entering  into  the  joy  of 
their  lord  and  by  the  command  of  cities. 
This  man,  who  traded  with  a  little  money, 
got  profit  on  it  and  invested  the  profit, 
traded  with  it  again  and  invested  that, 
finds  himself  in  a  position  where  he  is  no 
longer  buying  and  selling,  does  not  have 
to  watch  the  market,  does  not  have  to  in- 
vest his  rent.  He  is  now  riding  from  one 
city  to  the  other :  he  is  building  up  a  pub- 
lic library  here,  he  is  attending  to  the 
drainage  there,  and  is  seeing  to  the  better 
administration.  In  all  this  work,  he  is 
using  the  same  moral  faculties  in  virtue 
of  which  his  master  has  promoted  him. 
But  he  is  not  merely  promoted  from  one 
seat  in  his  master's  trading-house  to  a 

higher 


220 

higher  seat  in  that  trading-house  :  he  is 
lifted  out  of  that  trading-house,  and  is 
promoted  to  be  the  master  of  five  cities 
or  ten  cities ;  and  he  has  entered  into  the 
joy  of  his  Lord. 

This  lesson,  which  in  both  of  the  para- 
bles is  the  lesson  of  enlargement,  shows 
us,  in  this  critical  moment  of  Jesus'  life, 
how  eager  he  is  that  we  shall  understand 
what  we  are  in  this  world  for.  It  is  the 
enlargement  of  our  lives. 

You  will  hear  a  great  deal  of  discussion 
at  the  present  time  about  what  is  the 
character  of  the  retribution  which  is  to 
follow  life  in  this  world.  There  is  no 
nobler  or  finer  illustration  of  it,  from  one 
end  of  the  New  Testament  to  the  other, 
than  is  given  in  these  two  parables.  In 
each  of  them,  we  see  that  the  transfer 
from  this  life  to  the  other  is  a  transfer 
in  which  the  same  moral  characteristics 
go  from  one  life  to  the  other,  so  that  life 
is  enlarged,  so  that  one  who  trades  with 
a  few  pennies  here  is  lifted  up  to  the  man- 
agement of  cities  there.  We  understand 
this  all  in  our  life  here.  You  come  to  a 
university.  What  do  you  come  here  for? 
For  the  enlargement  of  your  lives.  You 

go 


Enlargement  of  ilife,         221 

go  to  the  gymnasium.  Why  ?  For  the 
enlargement  of  your  physical  strength. 
You  enter  on  the  track,  that  he  who  can 
run  a  mile  jn  seven  minutes  this  week 
may  run  a  mile  in  six  minutes  next  month, 
and  perhaps  before  six  months  are  over 
may  run  a  mile  in  fifty  or  sixty  seconds 
less  than  six  minutes.  Precisely  so  the 
opportunity  of  every  lecture  or  recitation 
is  the  enlargement  of  intellectual  power. 
The  boy,  who  was  obliged  diligently  and 
with  difficulty  to  work  out  a  problem  with 
arithmetic,  finds  that  by  a  simple  process 
he  works  it  out  with  more  success  in  alge- 
bra, and  then  learns  that  there  are  higher 
steps  yet  to  come.  And,  as  he  passes  up 
into  the  various  stages  of  the  calculus,  he 
finds  that  these  earlier  processes  are  less 
needful  to  him,  as  his  larger  intellectual 
life  enables  him  to  use  power  and  to  work 
out  problems  which  he  could  not  work  out 
before. 

But  such  enlargement  is  not  all.  The 
action  and  effort  of  his  life  come  out  upon 
a  larger  plan.  The  life  which  Jesus  spoke 
of  is  on  a  higher  level ;  and,  as  I  hope  we 
cannot  try  to  show  too  often,  it  is  a  prom- 
ise which  is  given  to  all  sorts  and  condi- 
tions 


222 

tions  of  men.  The  promise  is  not  simply 
given  to  him  who  has  the  brilliant  intel- 
lect with  which  a  Goethe  might  astonish 
the  world.  It  is  not  a  promise  given  to 
him  who  has  the  athletic  power  of  a  Sam- 
son or  somebody  else,  who  can  pull  down 
columns  in  the  temple.  It  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  mere  physical  or  intel- 
lectual power  of  the  man  concerned.  It 
is  a  promise  that  there  shall  be  an  en- 
largement of  spiritual  or  moral  power.  It 
is  a  promise  that  the  man  shall  see  more 
and  more  as  God  sees ;  that  he  shall  live 
to  God's  glory  more  and  more  completely, 
and  shall  be  able  to  go  about  his  Father's 
business  more  and  more  as  life  goes  on. 

If  you  are  inquiring  with  regard  to  this 
matter  of  compensation  or  retribution,  be 
careful  to  shun  that  frequent  suggestion 
that  God  has  put  you  into  this  world 
as  if  he  had  put  you  into  a  court-room, — 
as  if  you  were  to  be  watched  by  this 
detective  and  that,  and  at  the  end  to  be 
tried  whether  you  have  done  ill  or  not. 
That  analogy  is  misleading.  The  analogy 
of  a  university  is  the  true  analogy.  In 
this  world,  you  are  in  a  school  where  you 
are  to  be  educated  for  life  higher  and 

higher, — 


enlargement  of  llife*         223 

higher, —  just  as  it  says  in  the  parable, — 
so  that  he  who  has  managed  a  few  pounds 
has  ten  cities.  He  who  has  here  a  little 
hope,  a  little  love,  a  little  faith,  is  to  be 
so  trained  in  this  school  or  university, 
which  we  call  the  World,  that  he  shall 
grow  in  hope,  shall  grow  in  faith,  and 
shall  grow  in  love. 

I  meet  with  young  gentlemen,  members 
of  this  university  of  Cambridge,  who  do 
not  understand  why  it  is  that  God  has 
been  pleased  to  give  them  such  advan- 
tages as  he  has  given  them.  They  have 
only  to  go  to  the  other  end  of  Boston  to 
see  lads  of  their  own  age  who  have  not 
equal  advantages;  and  they  ask,  "What 
is  the  fairness  of  a  system,  that  we,  so  to 
speak,  are  born  in  purple,  while  that  poor 
lad  yonder  is  in  the  midst  of  destitution  ?" 
If  God  were  going  to  measure  us  by  our 
athletic  or  our  intellectual  strength,  this 
question  would  be  a  fair  one,  and  a  very 
difficult  one  to  answer.  But  the  lad  in 
the  midst  of  the  slums  of  Boston  or  the 
gentlemen  here,  who  have  been  born  to 
the  highest  opportunities,  are  alike  in  this 
reality :  that  they  have  this  moral  sense, 
this  sense  of  the  difference  between  right 

and 


224 

and  wrong.  That  lad  and  this  gentleman 
here  are  alike  to  seek  to  grow  in  hope, 
in  faith,  in  love. 

Well  for  us  if  we  make  use  of  the  match- 
less opportunities  for  intellectual  training 
that  are  given  here.  We  are  to  use  them, 
so  that,  when  they  fail,  as  fail  they  must, 
"the  children  of  light  shall  receive  us  into 
everlasting  habitations."  We  are  to  have 
a  nearer  sense  of  God.  "  Nearer  to  thee, 
my  God,  nearer  to  thee," — that  is  faith. 
We  are  to  have  more  faith.  As  each 
year  goes  on,  we  are  to  be  living,  not  for 
time  merely,  but  for  that  which  transcends 
time  :  we  are  to  be  living  for  eternity, — 
not  living  for  the  year  1888,  not  living 
for  the  four  years  of  a  college  existence, 
not  living  for  the  threescore  years  a,nd  ten 
that  may  be  given  to  a  human  being,  but 
living  as  those  who  can  look  beyond  time 
and  enter  into  life  with  God.  This  is  to 
live  in  hope. 

Greater  than  either  of  these,  says  Saint 
Paul,  is  it  to  live  in  union,  in  harmony,  in 
co-operation,  with  all  men,  our  brothers, 
and  with  all  women,  our  sisters,  in  this 
world ;  to  accept  the  solidarity  of  the 
human  race,  to  bear  our  brothers'  burdens, 

to 


(Enlargement  of  tlife,         225 

to  teach  and  be  taught,  to  lend  and  bor- 
row, to  lead  and  be  led,  to  go  forward  as 
one  great  company  of  God's  children  in 
the  great  commonwealth  of  Christ.  So 
much  better  this  than  for  a  man  to  say, 
"  For  myself  I  will  live,  and  for  myself  I 
will  die."  To  live  thus,  knit  in  with  the 
whole  body  of  mankind, —  this  is  what 
those  Gospels  mean  when  they  speak  of 
living  in  love.  Love,  as  Paul  tells  us,  is 
the  greatest  of  the  three  elements  of  life. 
It  is  these  three  realities  of  life  with  God, 
life  in  eternity,  life  with  our  brothers  and 
sisters  of  the  world, —  these  realities  which 
are  named  faith  and  hope  and  love, —  it  is 
these  which  are  the  infinite  elements  of 
our  lives.  And  we  in  this  university  or  the 
boy  doing  his  duty  in  the  slums  yonder 
are  at  one  in  the  work  that  we  may  en- 
large our  faith,  enlarge  our  hope,  that  we 
may  enlarge  our  love.  That  we  may  so 
enlarge  our  lives  is  our  steadfast  prayer 
to  the  Father  of  us  all. 


XXVIII. 

THE   MASTER'S   GUEST-CHAMBER. 
MARK  xiv.  1-17. 

THAT,  too,  was  Thursday  evening. 
A  great  multitude,  whom  no  man 
can  number,  account  this  the  sacred  week 
of  the  year,  and  its  hours  more  serious 
and  more  impressive  than  any  others. 
Many  men  of  varying  beliefs  and  varying 
habits  will  to-morrow  bow  at  the  cross  of 
Christ  with  penitent,  loving  hearts.  On 
Sunday,  the  world  over,  the  air  will  be 
filled  with  Easter  carols,  and  hearts  with 
Easter  blessings.  In  every .  place  where 
the  name  of  Christ  is  known  there  will  be 
gladness. 

On  this  Thursday  our  Lord  sent  two  of 
his  disciples  before  him  into  Jerusalem,  as 
we  have  read,  because  he  desired  to  keep 
with  them  the  Passover,  the  memorial  feast 
which  he  had  kept  from  his  boyhood.  He 
told  them  that  they  should  find  a  man 

bearing 


SEtie  Raster's?  0uesfccl)amber.    227 

bearing  a  pitcher  of  water.  Him  they 
should  follow ;  and  they  should  say  to  the 
good  man  of  the  house,  The  master  says, 
"  Where  is  my  guest-chamber,  where  I 
shall  eat  the  Passover  with  my  disciples  ? " 
One  of  the  best  things  that  the  revisers  of 
the  New  Testament  have  done  for  us  is  to 
change  some  of  the  smaller  words.  They 
have  taught  us  that  Jesus  said,  "  Where 
is  my  guest-chamber  ?  "  —  not  yours,  not 
another  man's,  not  the  room  for  all  the 
travellers  who  come  to  Jerusalem  at  this 
season,  but,  Where  is  my  room  at  this 
house  ?  And  the  man  shall  show  you  a 
large  upper  room  furnished  and  ready : 
there  prepare  the  Passover.  Through  all 
the  centuries  since  a  great  procession, 
never  broken,  has  gone  up  those  outer 
stairs,  and  come  down  richer  and  stronger 
for  the  hour  they  have  spent  with  him. 
This  is  history  for  us  all.  This  is  experi- 
ence for  all  who  love  him  and  trust  him. 

Yet  he  has  not  always  been  so  fortunate 
as  he  was  on  that  day.  He  never  found 
room  for  himself  before.  When  they  came 
to  Bethlehem,  there  was  no  room  for  his 
father  and  mother  in  the  inn.  Then,  after 
a  few  days,  Herod  thought  to  push  him 

from 


228 


from  the  world  that  would  be  overcrowded 
with  more  than  one  king.  When  he  came 
to  Nazareth  and  began  to  talk  with  his 
neighbors  and  friends,  they  drove  him  to 
the  brow  of  the  hill  on  which  the  city  was 
built,  and  would  have  thrust  him  down 
headlong.  Nazareth  was  too  small  for 
him.  When  he  went  to  Jerusalem,  Pilate 
drove  him  beyond  the  city  wall,  lifted  him 
on  the  cross,  and  bade  him  vanish  from  a 
world  which  "had  no  room  for  him.  In 
the  pathetic  sentence  of  the  gospel,  "  He 
came  unto  his  own,  and  his  own  received 
him  not."  Once  he  walked  from  the  shore 
out  upon  the  sea,  and  found  room  there  ; 
and  once,  from  the  top  of  the  mountains, 
he  ascended  into  the  upper  air,  and  found 
room  there.  But  from  tire  beginning  to 
the  end,  with  rare  exceptions,  there  was 
no  room  for  him.  It  is  better  to-day. 
The  finest  buildings  in  the  world  are  his. 
The  finest  music  in  the  world  sings  his 
praises.  The  finest  paintings  in  the  world 
represent  him.  Civilization  dates  every- 
thing from  the  night  when  he  was  born. 
He  is  the  centre  of  history,  the  centre  of 
light  ;  and  in  almost  every  college  in  the 
world  he  has  made  himself  a  place.  If  he 

could 


SClje  paster's  (Sues^cljambrr,    229 

could  be  contented  with  a  large  homage, 
with  reverence,  with  worship,  he  might 
well  be  satisfied.  Yet,  with  importunity 
that  was  never  more  pressing,  he  is  still 
knocking  at  the  door  with  the  old  ques- 
tion, "  Where  is  my  guest-chamber  ?  " 

It  is  the  sad  truth  that  the  greater  part 
of  the  world  has  not  heard  his  name.  It 
is,  perhaps,  even  a  sadder  truth  that  many 
who  have  heard  his  name  have  been  in- 
different to  his  approach.  The  world  is 
not  hostile  to  Christ.  I  wish  it  were. 
Hostility  means  life.  Men  are  indiffer- 
ent, and  that  is  worse  than  opposition. 
We  can  sail  the  seas  in  a  storm  ;  but  what 
can  we  do  in  a  fog  ?  The  world  is  pre- 
occupied. Our  time  is  all  taken  up.  We 
are  very  busy.  Our  engagements  are 
made,  our  life  is  invested.  There  seems 
little  place  to  admit  him, —  to  admit  any 
one  who  craves  not  merely  entrance,  but 
the  large  upper  room.  He  has  never  less- 
ened that  demand, —  the  large  room,  the 
upper  room.  The  large  room  may  be  the 
palace  hall  or  a  narrow  cell.  The  upper 
room  may  be  one  whose  windows  open 
toward  Jerusalem  or  a  dungeon  in  the 
ground.  It  is  the  largest  we  have,  the 

largest 


230 

largest  and  the  highest  room,  where  he 
may  find  his  guest-chamber. 

Brethren,  we  ask  ourselves  perhaps  to- 
night, Why  is  it  that  he  needs  so  much  ? 
The  answer  is  simply  this,  Because  he  is 
so  much.  The  Lord,  the  King,  the  Re- 
deemer, the  Saviour  of  men,  he  needs  a 
great  deal  of  room, —  room  enough  to  walk 
in,  room  enough  to  work  in,  room  enough 
to  live  in.  He  who  fills  the  spaces  around 
us  needs  the  largest  room  that  we  have. 

Then  think  what  he  brings  with  him ! 
He  brings  with  him  that  cross  on  which 
the  world  has  been  redeemed  :  the  cross 
needs  much  room.  He  brings  in  the 
throne,  that  he  may  assert  his  authority 
over  us ;  and  it  is  a  very  large  throne. 
"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  with  all  thy 
heart  and  with  all  thy  soul  and  with  all 
thy  strength."  When  we  think  of  the 
gifts  which  he  brings,  robbing  heaven  to 
enrich  us,  we  find  that  it  needs  not  a 
spare  day  or  a  spare  hour  or  a  spare  place : 
it  needs  more  room  than  we  have  to  hold 
the  gifts.  And,  when  he  would  come 
with  that  spirit  which  needs  to  breathe 
itself  into  our  hearts  and  lives,  it  is  clear 
that  no  walls  are  broad  enough,  no  roof 

hi<2fh 


SDfjc  Raster's  (Sucsfcctjamber.    231 

high  enough,  to  confine  what  would  bless 
us  in  the  fulness  of  its  boundless  pres- 
ence. He  comes  to  teach,  to  strengthen, 
to  comfort,  to  inspire,  not  some  section  of 
our  life  or  some  portion  of  our  time,  but 
the  large  upper  room.  If  you  will,  recall 
for  a  moment  what  our  Lord  did  in  this 
upper  room  in  Jerusalem,  when  it  had 
been  thrown  open  to  him.  Over  his  words, 
reverent  hearts  are  still  lingering.  The 
highest  prayers  which  are  offered  under 
the  sun  are  prayers  for  the  things  which 
he  promised  to  men  in  that  large  upper 
room.  There  he  taught  the  lesson  of 
service,  washing  the  disciples'  feet,  and 
instructing  them  that  the  law  of  life  is 
not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minis- 
ter; to  give  to  others, —  that  sublime  law 
toward  which  faintly  and  inconstantly  we 
are  struggling.  Did  he  not  spread  his 
table  before  them,  and  give  them  divine 
food  and  drink  ?  Did  he  not  teach  them 
that  in  his  Father's  house  are  many  man- 
sions, and  that  he  would  prepare  a  place 
for  them,  and  come  again,  and  receive 
them  to  himself  ?  Did  he  not  teach  them 
that  he  was  the  vine,  and  that  he  would 
impart  life  to  every  one  who  came  to  him 

and 


232 

and  clung  to  him  ?  Did  he  not  leave  it  as 
his  prayer  that  they  all  might  be  one ; 
that,  out  of  this  discord  of  our  lives,  we 
might  be  one  in  him  and  his  Father  ? 
Did  he  not  breathe  on  them  the  benedic- 
tion of  his  own  peace  ?  Surely,  these  are 
the  blessings  which  we  need  this  day. 

O  brethren,  let  us  give  it,  not  some 
spare  room  for  which  we  have  no  use,  not 
some  Sunday  afternoon  which  is  not  en- 
gaged, not  some  year  when  the  work  of 
life  is  over,  but  the  year  of  thought,  of 
strength,  of  purpose, —  the  large  upper 
room  for  the  large  upper  Lord  who  comes 
bearing  all  his  blessings  with  him. 

How,  as  we  close  this  service  for  this 
year,  can  we  do  it  better  than  to  hear  that 
question,  which  he  is  certainly  asking  us 
to-night,  asking  us  in  whose  heart  he  has 
gained  admission,  pressing  his  way  into 
something  larger  than  he  has  found  ?  Can 
we  do  better  than  to  hear  the  question, 
"Where  is  my  guest-chamber?"  O  man, 
where  is  the  guest-chamber  in  your  life? 
Blessed  are  we  on  this  day,  if  we  open 
unto  him  the  large  room,  and  keep  with 
him  the  Passover  that  is  the  earnest  of  an 
everlasting  rejoicing.  God  give  to  us,-  as 

we 


SCfje  Raster's  <Sue0t*l)amber»    233 

we  separate  and  go  our  ways, —  God  give 
to  us  this  grace,  to  receive  Him  whom  he 
has  sent  into  the  world  to  be  to  us  the 
Truth  and  the  Life ! 


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